


The Essence of Anger Pt 2

by Shire55



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Other, TNG Crew - Freeform, h/c, p/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shire55/pseuds/Shire55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Federation is heading for disaster. The price to rectify what has gone so horribly wrong is high. Perhaps too high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Essence of Anger Pt 2

Will Riker, Deanna and Beverly were seated in the Sick Bay lounge, each deep in their own thoughts. Beverly’s pale face still bore the pink stains of new skin as the derma patches had been removed and she didn’t seem to be able to stop the slight tremor in her hands, but she didn’t appear to notice it. Will leaned back in his chair, running a frustrated hand through his hair.  
“Well, I say, fuck ‘em. I cannot, in fact I will not sit up here on this ship, Captain Picard’s ship, and let those people execute him!”  
Sighing with resigned exasperation, Deanna said tiredly, “Will...”  
He shook his head, suddenly leaning forward and stabbing his forefinger on the tabletop. “No! And don’t give me any of your bloody reminders about fucking duty! If what you’ve intimated at is true, then I don’t want to have anything to do with an organisation that is willing to sit idly by and allow this farce to take place!” He got to his feet and began his restless pacing. “Jesus! Even if it wasn’t Jean-Luc Picard, what Command seems to be doing is just wrong! The Federation protects its citizens and Starfleet defends them! Now you tell me...isn’t the Captain both? A Federation citizen and a member of Starfleet? In fact, isn’t he the most celebrated Captain in modern times?”  
When neither woman spoke, Will grunted.  
“I’m sorry Dee, but I just can’t let this happen.”  
He stormed out of the room and Beverly sighed, a tear slipping down her face. She spoke so softly, Deanna had to strain to hear her.  
“He won’t allow it, you know. It’ll only make things worse.”  
Deanna reached for Beverly’s hand, frowning at how cold it felt. “He has to do something, Beverly. Will just wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try.”  
Lifting her desolate eyes to her friend, Deanna was shocked to see how dull they’d become. “Jean-Luc has lived his life as much by his word as his deeds. To take that away from him, especially now, would make what is already an intolerable situation that much worse. I’m not sure how he will find dignity in his death, but if Will interferes it will rob Jean-Luc of any control he still has over how he meets his own destiny.” Her body shuddered through a deep sigh and she closed her eyes, forcing two more tears free.  
“Don’t you think if it was as simple as beaming Jean-Luc up we’d still be here at this blighted damned planet! God, if it were up to me he’d be aboard and we’d be light years away by now.”  
Swivelling her seat, Beverly stared listlessly at the planet below. “I don’t know what’s going on, Dee, but whatever it is Jean-Luc thinks it’s important enough to die for. It’s more important than me and David! You tell me, Deanna, you know Jean-Luc just about as well as I do. You know the man behind the Captain’s persona. What do you think?”  
Deanna almost howled in anguish, knowing what she did and being unable to tell the one person who needed to know it the most. Somehow Deanna had to find words that weren’t platitudes or pale versions of the truth. Taking a deep breath, she said softly, “I have never met another being whose principles were so honourable, Beverly. That he should chose to allow the Ereban to execute him is testament to the man he is. I know that’s cold comfort for you and David, but it will provide memories of an extraordinary man who didn’t just pay lip service to his word, but lived by it to the point where he is willing to die for it.”  
The smile that appeared on Beverly’s face was so filled with sorrow that Deanna actually gasped.  
“You’re forgetting something, Deanna.”  
“What?”  
“He promised himself to me. Body and soul. As I promised myself to him the same way. No, we didn’t formalise it with a marriage, we never thought it necessary, besides no ceremony could do justice to express what were are to each other.” She sighed and bowed her head. “But it seems there is something greater than our love.” She gave a soft snort. “God, I never thought it possible. Seems I was wrong.”  
She rose slowly and walked unsteadily out of the room. Deanna folded her arms on the tabletop, rested her head on them and wept.

 

As the sensation of molecular transport tingled through his body, Jean-Luc closed his eyes and groaned. When he opened his eyes again he was standing on the transporter pad on the Enterprise, the strong hand of Will gripping his elbow, trying to gently usher him off the pad.  
Finding strength he didn’t know he had any more, Jean-Luc wrenched his arm free and summoned a gimlet-like glare.  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” Jean-Luc’s voice was like the crack of a whip.  
Standing to his full height, Will lifted his chin defiantly. “Captain, I refuse to allow the Ereban authorities to carry out this travesty! I am fully prepared to bear the consequences of my actions, in fact if necessary, I hereby resign from Starfleet. You can throw me in the Brig, Captain, I don’t care, as long as you are on the Enterprise, safe and sound.”  
Bowing his head, Jean-Luc’s posture lost some of its rigidity; he was just too emotionally tired to keep it up.  
“Will...”  
The First Officer wasn’t about to listen to his Captain, instead retaking his elbow and saying gently,  
“Come on, Captain, Beverly and David will be wanting to see you, Sir.”  
Softer and in a tone Will couldn’t ignore, Jean-Luc said, “Take your hand off me.”  
At first Will thought his Captain wished to maintain his penchant for not wanting public displays of affection or physical contact with any of his crew, but when Will looked into his Captain’s eyes he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. It was an order he simply couldn’t refuse. He released Jean-Luc and gave him a beseeching look.  
“Captain...please...” Will had never begged before in his life, but he was willing to do so now. Jean-Luc saw the distress in the younger man and relented, placing a paternal hand on Will’s shoulder. Softly, and in a kinder tone, he said,  
“Send me back, Will.”  
Tears welled in Will’s eyes. “Please, Captain, God, please no...please stay.”  
Somehow Jean-Luc found a smile.  
“I can’t Will. Send me back, do it now before I’m missed.”  
Mutely, Will shook his head, the war he was fighting inside tearing him apart. Obey his Captain, honour and respect the wishes of a man he’d come to think of as a father-figure and loved, or defy him and risk alienating him from Will’s life forever. It would be at a terrible cost, but...he would live! Jean-Luc saw the battle that raged within Will and saw how it was paralysing him. He softly directed his next order to the Ensign at the transporter controls.  
“Beam me back to my previous location, Ensign. Energise.”  
The young man’s mouth was gaping and he could do nothing but nod in silence as he did as he was ordered. As Jean-Luc’s body shimmered away, Will’s cry of anguish could be heard right through the surrounding corridors, making crew stop in their tracks. The Ensign watched as Will crumpled to his knees, bending over until his forehead almost touched the deck. The Ensign, not knowing what to do to help his Commander, immediately called for the ship’s Counsellor. Deanna arrived within a minute or two and it was a very grateful Ensign who was dismissed.  
Will grabbed Deanna’s uniform and sobbed; his heart breaking. Deanna wept too, unable and unwilling to shield herself from her lover’s torment and heartbreaking sorrow.

 

It was only after taking the lift to the basement that Jeran realised she was indeed alone. None of the night staff were present and the emptiness of the building was eerily unnatural. With her footfalls echoing she walked swiftly to the custodian’s office, finding the door unlocked, but no light on inside.  
It wasn’t until she’d stepped cautiously into the room that the light came on, momentarily blinding her. A voice she thought she recognised said with mild amusement,  
“Punctual, Advocate. A very commendable trait.”  
With her sight adjusting, Jeran gasped as she realised there were three other people in the room. Jeran gathered her wits and straightened her spine saying haughtily,  
“I wasn’t aware this was going to be a gathering. You said you would be alone.”  
The youngest of the three stood up from his position of being hitched onto the edge of the desk.  
“There’s no need for such attitude, Advocate, we know what you are.”  
Suspicion and fear skittered through Jeran and the young male saw it. He held up one hand in a placatory manner. “Oh, you needn’t worry, Advocate, you’re among friends. We’re all lurin.”  
Still not willing to show her hand, Jeran was non-committal. “So?”  
The young male lowered his head and smiled. “Your...invitation...to the custodian...” He laughed. “Oh by the All Seeing One! I don’t know how he kept a straight face! We’ve known about you and your bond mate for some time now, Advocate. In fact we...” he gestured to his two companions. “Are part of a group who know who all the lurin are.”  
Scrambling to make sense of what he was saying and trying to gauge if she was being obliquely threatened, Jeran said quietly, “And just what do you intend to do with this information?”  
His dark gold eyes glowed with intensity. “Gather our forces, Advocate. Quietly assemble the right sort of people in the right sort of positions so that when the overthrow takes place we will be in a position to assume power peacefully.”  
“But it’s unlikely to be in our lifetime.” Jeran said cautiously. The male shrugged.  
“True, but if we lay the groundwork now, our offspring will follow us. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Advocate, the work must begin now, while those in authority are still trying to figure out not what’s going on, they think they know that, but what’s to come!”  
“And you know?”  
The male nodded slowly and for the first time in her life, Jeran felt out of her depth. Yet she was intrigued and somehow encouraged and excited by his words.  
“Tell me!” She said urgently.  
He shook his head. “No, now is not the right time. Do what you came here to do and use what you find. I’m not sure it will help, but anything is better than nothing.”  
Frowning and still trying to understand, Jeran said quietly,  
“The human, Picard. He is important, isn’t he.”  
“More than you realise.”  
“But his guilt is certain! There’s nothing I can do. His execution is a foregone conclusion.”  
The male sighed and Jeran heard his sadness. “Yes, we know. It is a great pity, but his death will not be in vain.”  
“What do you mean?” Jeran’s frustration was clear.  
The male shook his head again. “You will find the lift will take you down to the sub archive and all the computers are on. The file, Article 225.1 should be in the directory and easily accessible.” He held up one finger. “But don’t tarry, Advocate. Your time here is limited. Get the Article, then leave immediately. Do not contact me again. If we need you, I will contact you. Is that clear?”  
Jeran had no option but to agree. At a gesture from the young male she left the office and made her way to the lift. Somehow she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She would’ve seen nothing if she had.

 

When he rematerialised in his cell, Jean-Luc stood absolutely still, listening carefully, fully expecting to hear the sounds of sirens or other alarms, but all was as it usually was, preternaturally silent. Suddenly fatigued beyond measure he sat heavily on the bench and closed his eyes. The temptation to stay on his ship had been so very persuasive; it had taken all his meagre reserves of will to resist the urge to give in to his First Officer, especially given how distraught the younger man was. When Will had mentioned Beverly and David, Jean-Luc had almost given in, but he just couldn’t, however he paid a hideous price, the pain not just his, but the pain he knew he was causing his partner and son made him feel like howling his anguish and he very nearly did. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that, on hearing him, he would have been immediately sedated.  
So he did what he’d done from the beginning of his perdition. Staring down at the hem of his sleeve, he sneered at the little loose thread.  
“Why won’t you break?” He asked rhetorically. Of course the analogous nature of the question was lost on Jean-Luc in his present state of mind, as, like the thread, he wouldn’t break either.  
With the same dogged determination he gripped the thread and tugged sideways and, just as it had always done so, it resisted, unbroken despite his continued efforts. Just like his spirit.

 

Jeran’s bond mate was waiting for her as she entered their apartment. Before she could put her data holder down he had wrapped his muscular arms around her and was nuzzling her neck. The by now familiar sensation of sexual arousal began without any control on Jeran’s behalf and, even though she desperately wanted to study the Article, her body overruled her brain.  
It was only much later, while lying together, still joined and gently caressing each other that Jeran’s mind came back on line. She sighed and her bond mate immediately felt the change.  
“What is it?” he asked worriedly. “Am I doing something you don’t like?” He leaned back a little to see where his organ was still inside Jeran. Tentatively, mainly because he didn’t want to hear her agreement, he asked, “Do you want me to remove my organ?”  
Jeran knew her bond mate very well and both understood and appreciated what it had taken for him to ask. To reinforce her acceptance of his presence in her body, she smiled and used a new technique she’d learned. As she squeezed her reproductive tube tightly and repeatedly, her bond mate gasped, his pale yellow eyes widening with both pleasure and surprise.  
“What did you just do? How did you do it?”  
Jeran’s smile, though lazy didn’t hide her growing desire. “I have a friend...a Doctor, who’s been getting information packages from the Federation ship in orbit. Just recently, at my friend’s request, the information has been all about human reproduction. By the All Seeing One, Murr, humans seem to be built for pleasure! It’s as if sex is what they were made for. It’s really complicated, especially compared with us, but the things they can do! And it’s all about pleasure! What I just did, was to utilise muscles I didn’t even know I had, to contract and release making my tube grip your organ. What was it like? Did it feel good?”  
By way of answering, Murr moved his enormous organ in and out of Jeran and she almost purred as she realised his was once again ready. Unlike human males, an Ereban male’s reproductive organ does not increase in size, it simply hardens, but such it its length and weight, it doesn’t lift. The male has to hold it to guide it into his mate. Doing something else Ereban weren’t supposed to do, they both groaned softly with pleasure, and when Murr growled gently, “It felt like you were squeezing it with your hands. You know how much I like that and I became ready almost instantly.”  
Lowering his deep husky voice to a coarse whisper, he confided, “You’re not the only one with some new tricks. Do you like this?”  
He shifted his body and carefully lifted one of Jeran’s legs until it rested over his hip. This was almost blasphemous. But when he thrust, it brought his organ in much closer contact with the clit-like organ inside Jeran’s tube. The soft cry of intense pleasure was torn from her throat.  
“How did you find out about that?” She gasped. Almost lost in his own sensations, Murr said gutturally, “The intra net.” Jeran wanted to protest, to admonish her mate for taking such a terrible risk but she was overcome with pleasure. They quickly reached flood and each felt the expulsion of seed and cell. Having already formed a bulb and accepting Murr’s seed in their previous mating, Jeran knew that she would have the distasteful experience of the unused seeds and cells exiting from her tube as soon as she stood up. But that was the furthest thing from her mind. Enjoying the intimacy of the afterglow, Jeran sighed and pressed her four breasts against the wall of Murr’s chest. He hummed his pleasure and mumbled,  
“Why were you so late tonight? I almost pleasured myself, having to wait so long.”  
Huffing with annoyed irritation, Jeran lifted her head and glared, the languor quickly dissipating.  
“I thought we’d agreed not to do that!” She shook her head. “It’s bad enough being lurin and behaving as we do, Murr, let’s not compound the issue by acting in a deviant manner.”  
Careful to be gentle, but showing his disgust, Murr pulled his organ out and left the bed, stalking to the cooler and removing a large bottle which he wrenched off the top and drank from. It had been done to make a point as Jeran had often complained that her bond mate more often than not refused to use a drinking container if he was thirsty. Having slaked his thirst, he further annoyed her by wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and belching loudly. He turned to face her and, as annoyed as she was, she was unable to stop her hungry eyes wandering over his naked body, dallying at his dangling organ. Still, she was an Advocate of many years’ experience and she wasn’t ready to let the matter drop.  
“And using the intra net! You know that’s monitored!”  
He came to the bed and sat, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you really think it matters, Jeran? You talk about what constitutes deviant behaviour when we ourselves are considered deviant just by our very existence. What does it matter what we do in the privacy of our own home?”  
“So you’re willing to expose us just to access forbidden material on the intra net? Murr, you’re making a decision that affects both of us. Is that fair?”  
He turned his introspective gaze from the ceiling to his bond mate. His pale yellow eyes were sad. “Aren’t you tired of hiding, Jeran? Wouldn’t you like to be able to walk with your head held high and say, I am lurin and I am Ereban. I have as much right to exist as you have! And you have no right to persecute me!”  
Jeran sat up, knowing the action would make a mess on the bedding. She traced her finger down Murr’s face and smiled. “Our day will come, Murr. If not for us, then maybe for our offspring. I am now in brood. Our young will be lurin, just like so many others. It’s up to us to start making changes, subtle, unobtrusive changes that will pave the way for more tolerance, more acceptance for those who come after us. But in the meantime, we must proceed with due care, we must remain hidden within the very society that would ostracise us. After all, what good can we do, if we’re locked up?”  
Murr smiled and his eyes showed his affection and admiration for his bond mate.  
“It’s little wonder you’re such a good Advocate.”  
Jeran waved her hand and snorted. “Not so good, Murr. I haven’t won a case in twelve years.”  
“Yes, but that’s only because you chose to be a defence Advocate. Anyway, why were you so late tonight? Was it work related?”  
“Yes.” She sighed and, not willing to stand, asked Murr to pass her the data holder. He did so, then sat beside her as she began to read. There was a lengthy silence which Murr knew not to break, but Jeran’s sudden explosive utterance of a particularly vulgar curse made Murr grip her elbow.  
“What? What is it?”  
“Those bastards! Those damned bastards!”  
Unheeding of the mess it would create, Jeran abruptly left the bed and began to stalk around their apartment, brandishing the data holder. “They knew! They knew all along!”  
Nonplussed and vaguely frightened, Murr left the bed, went to Jeran and gently gripped her shoulders. “What are you talking about? Who are they and what did they know?”  
Her pale golden eyes flashing with barely suppressed anger, Jeran hissed. “They are our legislators! The evidence is admissible!” She shook the data holder in front of Murr’s face. “This Article was amended only two weeks ago! Yet it was buried in the sub archive! They wanted it hidden.” She began to pace again, muttering darkly. “Something’s going on Murr, something so big our government doesn’t want the citizenry to know.” She spun around and jabbed the air with the data holder. “And it has something to do with what’s been happening to people like us!”  
The huge male tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “But...if the Article was only amended in the last two weeks, then it must have something to do with the human, Picard.”  
“Yes! Obviously!” Shaking the data holder again, Jeran growled, “For some reason they want him out of the way.” Her legal mind was in overdrive. “Coincidences!” Confused, Murr said cautiously, “What? What are you talking about?”  
“Coincidences, Murr. Too many, far too many. Those three males, the ones Picard was so conveniently recorded killing. Why were they released within such a close period of time to each other? In fact, why were they released at all? And why haven’t the authorities been able to find who helped them? Why were they near that particular park when Picard’s partner took her young for a walk? And how did they know which apartment she was staying in?”  
Murr shrugged, pulling down the corners of his mouth.  
“I don’t know...but Jeran...what are you suggesting? Are you saying there’s some kind of conspiracy at work? Some kind of...plot?”  
Frowning deeply, Jeran tapped the edge of the data holder against her large, square teeth.  
“I think...” She grimaced and shook a fist. “I think our government, or some secret part of it is in collusion with the Federation.”  
Murr frowned in confusion. “But why? Picard was sent here to assess us for membership. If the Federation is involved in some kind of deal with the government, why are they willing to let Picard be executed? What possible purpose could it serve? I mean, surely the execution of the very person upon whom we rely on to give a favourable assessment would most likely rule us out as a likely candidate for Federation membership.”  
Defeated, Jeran forced her thumb nail between her front incisors. Then, frustrated and angry, she threw the data holder across the room and shouted,  
“I don’t know!”  
Murr looked at the mess gathering at Jeran’s feet and sighed.  
“Go and wash, I will clean the floor and change the bedding.”  
Jeran looked down and grimaced. “Oh, sorry.”  
Murr summoned a smile. “Don’t be, Jeran. We’re both responsible for it.”  
Offering a grateful smile, as she walked across the room to the washing room, she hesitated and said softly, “You are a good mate, Murr. I was fortunate indeed to bond with you.”  
His eyes travelled over her naked body and her eyes widened as his organ hardened. “And you, Jeran, are beautiful.”  
She was still in a daze as she washed under the cascading water. The arousal rose within her and she closed her eyes against its insidious power. Murr had never complimented her before, it was not the Ereban way, but to know her bond mate found her attractive made her feel almost giddy. The steam from the hot water carried her potent lurin scent to Murr. Intent on his task of cleaning the floor, he suddenly froze, his flat nostrils flaring. Standing quickly, he dropped his cleaning implement and hurried to the washing room. Jeran should’ve been surprised and shocked when he joined her under the falling water, bathing was considered an intensely private thing to do, but when his large hands gripped her around her waist and turned her to face him, she could not deny her desire.  
Gently pushing her backwards, he nibbled her ear before whispering, “I know all sorts of ways to lie, Jeran. Later, you and I will sit together at the monitor and I will show them all to you. If you like, we can do any you see that...excites you.”  
As he spoke he lifted her leg, bent his knees and took hold of his organ. Looking up into her bright eyes he said softly,  
“Obviously I have not done this before; I have only seen a vid. If I do anything that you find uncomfortable, just say so and I will stop.”  
Stroking his face, Jeran’s desire was out of control. “Then it will be a first for both of us. Hurry, Murr.”  
He straightened his legs and pushed with his hips. His organ slipped inside Jeran, sliding deep inside her and she yelped loudly, her head snapping back so quickly it struck the wall with some force. Concerned, Murr, barely able to control himself, managed to say, “Are you all right, Jeran?”  
In response she contracted around him and all pretence of control was lost. Ereban males are taught from a very young age that once reaching seed and bonding, when they lay they must be gentle, lest they damage their mate. But it would seem that lurin differ in this way as well, because Murr thrust hard in and out of Jeran and she couldn’t get enough. Such was the force of the flood and release, they both ended up on the tiled floor of the water cascade.  
Murr recovered his senses first to find Jeran’s eyes closed; her body limp. Alarmed, he gripped her chin and lifted it, saying urgently, “Jeran! Jeran are you all right?” Opening her eyes to mere slits, Jeran gasped as Murr moved slightly, causing his organ to slide deeper inside her.  
“Murr...what are we? What have we become?” There was wonderment in her voice and a relieved Murr did something else that neither had ever experienced. He kissed her. At first shocked, Jeran blinked but then reached up and wrapped one hand around the back of Murr’s head, slowly drawing him back to her lips. Murr had only the vids he’d seen to go on, but when he opened his mouth and gently brushed his tongue across Jeran’s lips, it was so natural for her to admit him into her mouth. Tentative at first, their tongues touched shyly, but as arousal grew again, their questing became more powerful. Somehow, in the confines of the cascade stall, they had sex again, but it left them so exhausted and sore, they stayed where they were for over two hours before Murr helped Jeran to her trembling feet and tenderly washed away all evidence of their joining.  
Happily, Murr had changed the bedding before he’d tackled the floor, so they were able to tumble into bed. As sleep quickly swept over them, Jeran vaguely made a note to herself to start asking some very subtle questions of some very trusted people.

 

Jeran had never found her desk chair to be uncomfortable. In fact she’d taken particular care in choosing it as she spent quite long periods of time at her desk, but her reproductive tube opening was sore and inside she felt...battered. But, although it made sitting somewhat uncomfortable, every time she felt the discomfort she was forcibly reminded of what she and Murr had done the previous night and that made her smile. She was in a good mood when she’d arrived at the law centre, but upon taking the data holder from her bag her good humour fled. She read the information twice and was just beginning to go over it again when her secretary called on the office comm.  
“Advocate, I have Counsellor Troi and Doctor Selar wishing to speak with you.”  
By the tone of her secretary’s voice, Jeran knew he expected her to refuse to take the call, but the two Starfleet women were precisely who she wanted to see.  
“Put the call through, please.”  
The surprised, “Yes, Advocate.” Made Jeran smile. The console on her desk was quite sophisticated and by the judicious use of a few additions to the normal system, Jeran could be assured of privacy. She activated those additions now, but refrained from allowing a vid link.  
“This is Advocate Jeran.”  
Deanna’s voice was pleasantly surprised. “Good morning, Advocate, thank you for taking the call.”  
“Not at all, Counsellor, in fact I was soon to contact you.”  
“I see. A meeting perhaps?”  
“Yes.” Jeran glanced at her time piece. “Can you be at my office at three crescent?”  
“We will be there, Advocate.”  
“I look forward to it. Goodbye, Counsellor.”

 

The slightly built human was feeling very edgy. He didn’t like this; he didn’t like it at all. He was used to being in control, not dangling on a very delicate thread working at the behest of people who worked in shadows, much like he did. For a being as huge as his contact, the male moved remarkably quietly. He was at the human’s side just as the man registered his presence.  
The human kept his voice low, the synthesiser masking his true voice.  
“I don’t like this, it is too compromising!”  
“I know,” Agreed the Ereban male. “Nevertheless, we thought this the best place to meet.”  
Trying to keep the derision out of his tone, the human said tersely, “Inside the central government building?”  
The big male snorted. “Do you really think they would consider it possible that the spy they hunt with such fervour is right under their noses? Inside their own complex?”  
Dismissing the discussion with a wave of his gloved hand, the human said, “He was transported aboard his ship an hour ago.”  
The male stiffened and gasped.  
“What? There were no alarms! I’ve seen no reports of an escape!”  
Calmly, the human held up a device with a screen. It showed Jean-Luc rematerialising in his cell. The male shook his huge head. “I do not understand. He returned? Why? Why didn’t he stay on his ship? There would’ve been nothing we could do about it.”  
The Ereban couldn’t see the wry grin on the human’s face as it was obscured by the black balaclava he wore.  
“This is no run-of-the-mill human, my friend. This man is rare, he has principles, principles he’s willing to die for.”  
Still confused, the male hissed, “Are you referring to him failing his mission, or his killing of those scum who murdered and violated his family?”  
The human shrugged. “Does it matter? The result is the same.”  
The male glared down at the smaller being. “Yes it matters! You would kill one of your own for failing a mission?”  
Again the human shrugged.  
“Of course we would! Think of what’s at stake! Isn’t it worth the life of one man?”  
The Ereban male ground his teeth, making a very unpleasant noise. Eventually he asked,  
“So, will Ereban be admitted into the Federation?”  
The human’s eyes drifted down to the device in his left hand. “Why ask me? I don’t know. I’m just a worker ant.”  
“I do not believe you! You are not being...what do you humans say? Frank, with me. I do not like being lied to.”  
Although only implied, the threat was very real. The human wasn’t worried. Not only was he an expert in martial arts, he was also very well armed and, just as Jean-Luc had been, he was well aware of the males’ utterly glaring vulnerability. But, although he wouldn’t hesitate to kill the Ereban, it would prove to be rather time consuming and inconvenient in getting rid of the body. After all, they were inside the central government building and finding a body inside there was sure to stir up a most unwanted hornet’s nest. So he simply sighed and offered a one arm shrug. “Very well. Yes. Ereban is to be admitted. In fact the decision had been made before Picard was even sent.”  
“And he knew?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then why did he wait? Why didn’t he make contact!”  
The Ereban couldn’t see the human’s frown, but even with the voice synthesiser, the male clearly heard the human’s confusion. “I can’t answer that, my friend. Unless...”  
“Unless what?”  
“Well it might sound naive, but there is a chance albeit remote, that he was actually attempting to do his job.”  
“What? What job?”  
“Assessing your planet for membership. That is, after all, what he was sent here to do, at least that’s the official reason. And, being the man he is, maybe he saw that your planet isn’t really Federation material.”  
The male’s voice became deceptively quiet. “I do not like what you’re implying.”  
Clapping a gloved hand on the male’s massive shoulder, the human said cockily, “Well it really doesn’t matter now, does it? A new Federation delegate is on her way, I’m sure once she makes contact everything will run smoothly.”  
“This delegate? She is bonded?”  
The human rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes,” He said sarcastically. “And she has a couple of brats as well as a husband. I’m sure you’ll find her just peachy.” He looked again at his device and became all business. “So, you have the right people in place?”  
“Yes, They will lay the foundations.”  
“Good! Right, it’s time I was out of here. I take it the way is still clear?”  
The Ereban’s hands twitched as if he really wanted to break the human’s neck.  
“Yes. Go back the way you came. You will not be seen.”  
“Thank Christ; I can’t wait to get out of this rat’s nest.”  
Seeming to just disappear into the shadows, the human suddenly left. The male glowered. He didn’t know what a rat was, but he was certain he’d just been insulted.  
Once outside the building and in a private little alcove, the human requested a beam out. He would make his report to his team leader. Section 31 was very busy, doing the clandestine work the Federation Council insisted did not exist. Deanna was right. The Federation had become corrupt. In their own way, the Federation had become as power hungry and as avaricious as those they accused of being the very same way. The only difference was that the Federation clothed themselves in benevolent, but false pretences.  
After enduring the Dominion War, then the disastrous Borg incursion what little remained of the lofty goals of the Federation were snuffed out by the realities of almost ten years of constant war. If the Federation was ever to recover they had to find new, unsuspecting ‘members’ wherever they could and at the same time, try to find a way to win the inevitable war that was brewing with the Typhon Pact. And if there were casualties like Jean-Luc Picard along the way, sobeit. The sad fact was people like Jean-Luc had become a problem to the Council because he possessed a moral conscience and that made entities like Section 31 just that much harder to carry out their nefarious work.  
When this business with Ereban was finally solved, a lot of very good people would no longer serve, not in Starfleet or the Federation, but if the Council had learned anything it was that people could be replaced. Power, real power, could not.

 

Doctor Absum had already begun what Jeran intended. Although not lurin herself, she was sympathetic to them and, as she and her bond mate had discussed the issue at some length, they felt it incumbent upon them to do whatever they could to try and find out just what was going on. The relative who had made her aware of Article 225.1 had become somewhat mysterious and a little nervous when Absum had queried what the Article contained and when she’d asked how her relative knew of its existence, being that anything in the sub archive should’ve been long forgotten about, the relative refused to say anything more and abruptly left.  
It was only after a lot of introspection that Absum came to the realisation that her relative was most probably lurin. At first it had been extremely unpalatable, but, as a Doctor and cognizant of the growing numbers of both male and female lurin, Absum came to the inescapable conclusion that her own extended family...her blood lines had already been tainted and there was nothing she could do but accept it. And with that acceptance came the desire to do whatever she could to assist what she had finally come to believe was the true destiny of her species. Her bond mate, a researcher in the botanical sciences had offered his help as well, just in case the cause was something in the food chain at least the vegetables and grains and he had promised to make subtle enquires with his fellow scientists in the animal sciences to see if the flesh Erebans consumed was somehow at fault.  
With these enquires underway, Absum turned her mind to what she knew best. Ereban physiology and genealogy. Unlike the law centre, the medical archives were readily accessible, though strictly regulated and secured. Absum managed to set aside two full days (on the pretext of research, which wasn’t a total fabrication, she was researching, just not what her superiors thought), to see if she could find some kind of pattern or, at the very least, try to establish just when the changes had begun. It was her hope if she could do either of these things, she might be able to discover the cause and in doing so, formulate a tentative prediction as to what the Ereban might become and, most importantly, when.  
It was late on the second day and the staff at the medical archive were closing up for the night, but Absum had managed to secure permission to work on, having promised to shut down the area when she was finished. The computer she was using wasn’t a standard model, its computing power was greater than what was usually required for most tasks, but as she needed to access what was basically ancient history, albeit medical history, the storage and recovery power was much greater than normal.  
She had been diligently digging away, slowly amassing some very interesting...and telling...information when suddenly her monitor screen went blank. She frowned and said quietly and with a little irritation,  
“Reboot.”  
Nothing happened and that was almost impossible. She had never had a computer not respond to such a basic command. Unease began to make her skin tighten. Summoning a clear voice, she said firmly,  
“Computer, reboot.”  
The quiet deep voice behind her made her startle violently.  
“Do not turn around, Doctor. Your computer has shut down on my command.”  
Absum froze, sweat breaking out in beads on her brow, making her shiver in the climate controlled cool room.  
“Push your chair back from the desk but do not attempt to turn around.”  
She did as she was told and sensed the air change as the person moved closer. Something hard was pushed into the soft spot at the base of her skull and the pressure on this vulnerable area was enough to make her lightheaded and nauseous.  
“You are interfering in things that are none of your business, Doctor. I advise you...” The object was pressed with more force, making Absum’s vision grey. “To forget about it. It does not concern you. Do you understand?”  
She somehow managed to nod.  
“Good. Now, give me the name of your lurin relative.”  
Swallowing, Absum’s huge heart began to race. To betray a family member was absolutely unforgivable. She would be exiled from her family, her bond would be dissolved, her offspring would disown her and she would be disassociated. Everything about who and what she was would be taken from her. Without her family, her bond mate or her career she would be at the mercy of the state. It was not something she would even contemplate, not for so much as a second.  
“No.” Flat and unequivocal.  
She felt the puffs of breath as the male spoke close to her ear. “You do realise we have methods of extracting any information we want?”  
Although very frightened, Absum was resolute. “I will not betray a family member.”  
The male sighed, then said fatalistically “Then you give me little choice.” A large, powerful hand gripped Absum’s upper arm and, as she was hoisted to her feet, the voice said sinisterly, “Of course if you don’t tell us what we want to know, we will use...other...methods to unearth the lurin. And once we have it, it will be made to pay for your defiance.”  
The pressure on the base of her skull increased as she was dragged backwards, Absum began to say her silent goodbyes to her mate, offspring and family, hoping forlornly the somehow her blood would be able to be extracted from her remains, provided they were ever found, when the main lights suddenly came on. Absum had turned off all the lights except that which shone on her work station. The only way the main lights could’ve come on was if someone from the staff had entered the archive room. However, the Doctor was shocked to hear the unmistakable sound of a weapon charging. A male voice shouted, “Whoever you are, show yourself!”  
The voice at Absum’s ear was soft and laced with urgency. “Not a sound, Doctor. Stay silent or you will die.”  
She was pulled backwards, deeper into the cavernous room. The work stations were placed at regular intervals, but there was insufficient distance between them to afford any cover. Forced down into a crouch, the voice said, “We are going to make our way to the entrance by the far wall.” The hard hand pushed her face down and the voice whispered, “On your belly, Doctor. No sound, not a false move or you will most surely die.”  
Not knowing what was to happen, but bound to obey, Absum crept forward, but she’d only gone a few metres when she heard a grunt and the sound of a blade slicing through flesh. She paused, almost too scared to look back, but she had to see. Lifting her upper body and getting to her knees, she slowly turned. Two males, one holding a smeared knife, the other a blaster, stood over the body of a third, a spreading pool of blood staining the polished stone floor. Transfixed, Absum got to her feet, her entire body trembling. One of the males looked up and offered a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry you have become involved, Doctor, but the moment your relative revealed the existence of Article 225.1, you were dragged into something you were never supposed to know about.”  
Frowning down at the growing pool of blood, Absum raised a shaking finger and pointed.  
“His blood...you must collect it.”  
The male looked down at the body with open disgust. “It is worthless.”  
Absum was shocked and angry. “Even if he is lurin, you must preserve his blood! He has the right to...”  
Standing to his full height, the male shared a knowing look with his companion and sighed. His voice carried both revulsion and anger. “He is not lurin, Doctor, he is not even Ereban!”  
Absum’s mouth gaped and she stared down at the corpse. Although she’d not seen his face, by what she could see of his face down body, clothed as was normal in a brightly coloured sarong-like garment, he seemed to be entirely Ereban. She could see nothing unusual about him.  
While the silent male began to drag the corpse away, the other male took Absum’s elbow and led her back to her work station where he eased her into her seat. Crouching in front of her, he waited patiently for the questions he knew would come. His wait was a short one.  
“If he is not Ereban, what is he then?”  
“We don’t know.”  
“Then how do you know he’s not Ereban?”  
“We know.”  
“But how?”  
The male smiled and this time Absum saw genuine warmth. “Tomorrow you will dissect the body. While we know he is not Ereban, what we don’t know is what he is. You will tell us.”  
She shook her head. “I cannot! My allotted time for research ends tonight. Tomorrow morning I must report for my normal work.”  
The smile widened. “Your superiors will find it necessary to grant you two more days.”  
Still shaking her head, Absum held up her hands. “But I can’t do it in the central morgue! If he is not Ereban the staff will soon know.”  
“You won’t be performing the dissection in the central morgue.” Before she could ask, the male placed a hand on her arm, a gesture, coming from an unrelated person, would normally be considered a great effrontery.  
“A ground vehicle will come for you very early tomorrow morning. Be outside your apartment block two crescents before the sun rises.”  
“But my bond mate...”  
“Is already in our...care.”  
Alarm showed on Absum’s face and the male shook his head.  
“It is all right, Doctor he has not been harmed, nor will he be. We do not wage our struggle against our own people.”  
“So...he is not a hostage? I am not being coerced?”  
“No, in fact, you may refuse to help, but if this...” He pointed at the now reactivated screen. “Is anything to go by, then I think I am right in saying you are highly motivated to carry through with your...investigations.”  
Absum glanced at the screen and frowned. “What do you expect me to find?”  
The male sighed. “We’re not certain, until we discovered your...interest, we didn’t have someone with your level of medical knowledge to help us. We could’ve gained access into these archives at any time, but what good would that have been without someone like you who knows, not only what to look for, but recognise and understand it when you found it!”  
Absum closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Bowing her head she said softly, “What has this to do with the human, Picard?”  
Her question was greeted with silence. She looked up to see the male watching as three more Ereban were cleaning the floor of the gore, removing all evidence of the violent death. Absently he replied,  
“We don’t know; other than he is connected somehow, but how...” He shrugged his massive shoulders.  
He turned his attention back to Absum. “Will you help us?”  
The Doctor snorted. “I don’t even know who you are!”  
“We are patriots, Doctor. Are you? Do you love Ereban?”  
“That can mean so many things! Are you asking if I love my planet? My family? My species? What do you mean?”  
Pulling down the corners of his mouth, he shrugged again. “It need not be so complicated, Doctor. I suppose the fundamental question is, do you love our existence?” He swept his arm wide. “Everything, Doctor, from the smallest crawling creature to your fellow beings. Everything, Doctor, here everything is Ereban.”  
Absum tilted her head, the enormity of his statement shattered so many ingrained thoughts and emotions and teachings. The All Seeing One was supreme and the Ereban were the living embodiment of her. To place the lower life forms at the same level was at best seditious and at worst blasphemous.  
“I don’t know what to say.” She whispered. The male squeezed her shoulder and stood.  
“Then you have much to think about, but while you think, will you help us?”  
Absum’s head nodded before she actually made the intellectual agreement. It was as if her acquiescence was atavistic, almost a survival response.  
The hand on her shoulder patted her in a very intimate way, but Absum wasn’t the least bit offended.  
“Good.” Then he bowed so he could whisper, “And the data chip you’ve been downloading to...make sure it stays safe. We both know the archival files may not be downloaded; in fact the files are not to leave this facility. True?”  
All Absum could do was nod mutely. If this male wished to, he didn’t have to kill her; he could destroy her life with a mere vid call to her superior. To trust someone outside one’s family was unheard of, but what choice did she have? While she was contemplating her fate, the male said quietly,  
“Access files at previous reference date and display.”  
The computer complied and the screen filled with information. The hand squeezed her shoulder and the male’s voice was warm and friendly. “I will leave you to your work, Doctor, and I wish you good luck.”  
He stepped away and Absum turned quickly. “Will I see you again?”  
He grinned. “Probably. Perhaps even as soon as you’ve finished the dissection. But mine is a dangerous occupation, death stalks me...” He looked at his companions as they finished their gruesome work. “It stalks all of us, but...” He sighed. “Like the gallant Captain Picard, we feel the struggle is worth the risks.” He looked down at Absum and his smile was a sad one. ‘It is a pity though...even if we succeed we won’t live to see the final outcome. That will be in times far yet to come.”  
He left and Absum turned her head, staring at the now pristine place on the floor where a being had died. It was surreal and for a moment she wondered if it had really happened. Then the computer beeped, letting her know that if she didn’t tell it not to, it was about to adopt a standby mode.  
Her voice didn’t sound like hers as she said absently, “Continue.”

 

Jeran was ready when Deanna and Selar took their seats in front of her huge desk. The Advocate had, by initiating her subtle enquires, set in motion more of the underground movement, but of course she was completely unaware of just how complicit she had made herself. Where she thought she was dealing with some sort of government conspiracy, she had no idea of the true scope and complexity of exactly what was going on. Whether or not her ignorance would be enough to save her would be crucial to Jean-Luc’s survival.  
Before either of the Enterprise women could utter a word, Jeran stunned them by saying, “The information Doctor Absum shared with you about the murdered males’ past criminal histories is admissible.”  
Deanna tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. Cautiously she said, “Article 225.1?”  
Jeran bowed her head. “Yes.” But before anything further could be said, she held up one long finger. “What I am about to tell you, could be considered treason.” Deanna’s senses easily picked up the Advocate’s deep unease and fear and she wondered just how much the Ereban knew. Holding up a data holder, Jeran said quietly, “The information within the Article was amended as recently as two weeks ago.”  
It was Selar who said, “But we were under the impression that all the articles held in the sub archives had been relatively undisturbed for generations. You yourself told us that.”  
Jeran nodded, her expression pained. “And what I told you was true! I am as surprised by this as you.”  
“Three questions,” said Deanna softly. “What was the original article, what was the amendment and who made it?”  
Jeran sighed and rubbed her brow.  
“The article was a challenge, a successful one as it turned out, which was exactly why it was in the sub archive. Apparently, generations ago, a very similar situation to your Captain’s occurred. An Ereban male came back to his dwelling to find another male forcing himself on his bond mate. Enraged, a fight ensued and the bond mate was successful in rendering the assailant unconscious. Then he killed the male. Of course, by Ereban law, he had murdered a helpless citizen. Therefore, the charge he faced was that of unprovoked murder. But...and this is what’s important. The authorities discovered that this wasn’t the first act of...rape...perpetrated by the dead male, and it was found that if the bond mate was executed for his crime, his family would be severely disadvantaged. So, special dispensation was granted and the assailant’s criminal past was allowed to be entered for the defence. The case was won and the arrested male was set free. But...because the evidence had only been allowed to be entered under special dispensation, it was never made an act of legislation. In essence, it never became law.”  
Frowning, Deanna asked, “Then how can our information be admissible now?” Jeran’s smile was grim. “Because this...” She held up the data holder. “Has set a precedent! One I can exploit. I’m not aware how your system of law works, but here, as long as some sort of precedent exists and I can show clear evidence of it, it can be used. It’s not going to go down well with the Presider, but she, or he, won’t be able, at least not legally, to refuse it.”  
Jeran sat back and tossed the data holder onto the desk. “The amendment, a clumsily made attempt I must say, was to try to make it seem that the challenge had failed and that legislation had been passed to prevent such dispensations occurring again. As to who did it?” She shrugged. “While the attempt at the amendment may have been clumsy, the effort to erase the identity of the individual...or individuals...who did it was not. So far I have been unable to find out who was responsible. In fact, I have been unable to even find out who, if anyone, has requested to visit the sub archive at all!”  
There followed a short, tense silence before Selar asked quietly, “Could it have been done remotely?”  
Jeran frowned. “You mean by accessing the data without actually visiting the archive?”  
“Yes.”  
The Advocate frowned deeply, obviously giving considerable thought to something she found hard to believe. Eventually she conceded. “Well I suppose it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of anyone being able to circumvent the government security data protection protocols. I mean, why would they?”  
“To do just what has been done.” Deanna said dryly. Jeran shot her a hot look, then her eyes slitted. “You know more than you’re telling me, Counsellor.”  
Inclining her head, Deanna made it clear the Advocate was correct. Jeran snorted and thumped her large hands on the desktop. “Then how do you expect me to do my job if my hands are tied? If you know something I can use, then tell me! I am the one responsible for defending the indefensible! How can you withhold information that might save your Captain’s life?”  
Sighing, Deanna clasped her much smaller hands on the vast expense of the desktop. “Because, Advocate, I have to obey my Captain. He has given me an order that I am compelled to obey.”  
“I don’t understand!” Jeran almost shouted. “Are you telling me your Captain also knows something about what’s happening and he’s not willing to say anything either?”  
In the face of Deanna’s stoic silence, Jeran abruptly came to her feet, placed her fists on the desktop and loomed over her guests. “Then answer me this, Counsellor. What use is there in obeying the orders of a condemned man? Will his orders serve any purpose after he’s dead?”  
Again, Deanna refused to respond. Jeran, frustrated and angry sat down, leaned back in her seat and steepled her fingers under her chin, studying the two women before her. “I find your silence very telling, Counsellor. You, in fact both of you, seem to represent an enigma. On the one hand you are desperate to assist your Captain, yet on the other, you seem to be deliberately hampering my efforts to do just that. What is it you want me to do?”  
Deanna smiled, but it lacked any warmth, in fact it was immeasurably sad. “Just do whatever you can for Captain Picard and we will assist you as best we can. That, Advocate is all I can tell you.”  
Jeran sighed and directed her gaze at the data holder. “I feel like I am forced to work without clarity of vision.” She looked up and, mixed with anger was defeat. “Very well, Counsellor, I will do what I can, but I will never understand why you refuse to help me to save the life of a person you profess to hold in such esteem.”  
Deanna was quickly reaching a point where she felt she could no longer keep her Captain’s confidences...or obey his orders but she didn’t know who to confide in. Certainly not Will, he would be so incandescent with rage there would be no telling what he might do, not Beverly, already too traumatised. She was lost in thought as Jeran brought the meeting to a close and it wasn’t until they were being ushered from the room that Deanna realised she had the perfect confidant beside her. Once out of the building, Deanna said quietly,  
“Selar, once you have been to see the Captain, would you come to my office? There’s something very important I need to discuss with you.”  
The Vulcan gave Deanna a speculative look and slowly nodded. “Very well, Counsellor. I had thought you might wish to confide in me.”  
Deanna was unable to keep the shock off her face. Her whispered, “What do you know?” Was met with a blank expression. “I do not think this an appropriate locale for such a discussion, Counsellor.”  
Brought back to her senses, Deanna gave and embarrassed nod. “Of course. I’ll expect you in an hour or so?”  
“Yes, Counsellor.” Deanna reached to tap her comm. badge when Selar said softly,  
“Do not lower your guard, Deanna. There is danger all around.” As she dematerialised, Deanna realised that was the very first time she could recall Selar had ever using her given name.  
Unlike Deanna had done, Selar had no intention of either walking or using the public transport system, instead requesting to be beamed to the hospital foyer. By now the staff and the administration had come to understand that Jean-Luc was not a dangerous patient and so Selar found him unfettered and they were afforded privacy without having to ask.  
Upon entering Jean-Luc’s cell, Selar found him standing at the rear of the room, his head bowed. Selar went to the basin and began to unpack her equipment. Silently Jean-Luc joined her and without any assistance, removed his clothing, then as Selar began to wash him with the medicated soap, he closed his eyes and sighed. Instead of just washing the affected areas, Selar washed his entire body, then, with exquisite gentleness, she shaved the raw areas and then, again with tender gentleness washed the areas again. But, just when Jean-Luc expected her to tell him to dress, she moved behind him and began to massage his tense shoulders and neck. No one other than Beverly had ever touched him with such implied intimacy, although Jean-Luc clearly understood there was nothing sexual at all in what Selar was doing. Naked and completely vulnerable, Jean-Luc surrendered to her knowing hands as she worked her strong fingers, kneading hard, but not painfully so, all the way from his neck, shoulders and back, right down to his buttocks.  
It wasn’t until she said softly, “You may dress now, Captain.” That he realised she was finished. He sighed deeply, greatly saddened at the loss of physical contact. Though an unemotional being, Selar was well aware of the comfort her Captain derived from what she did for him and when she saw that he was having difficulty seeing the closures of his overall through his tear filled eyes, she gently brushed his hands aside and closed the garment for him. As she took his elbow and eased him to sit on the bench, he whispered, “Bless you, Selar.”  
She thought it odd that he should choose to use those particular words, given that he possessed no faith, but then she realised he was paying acknowledgement to hers. It was rare for Selar to feel gratitude, but she did so now. Once they were seated, the Doctor administered the hypos and the unpalatable liquid and in the space of the time that took, Jean-Luc had composed himself.  
Selar judged his mood and decided now was the time to discuss what had been on her mind for some time.  
“Captain Picard, in my position as a Doctor, working in Starfleet and in particular on the Enterprise, I have become a very astute student of the nuances of human behaviours. Had I stayed on Vulcan, among my own people I would not have developed these skills, it would not have been necessary, but, because I have spent so many years living and working among humans, I have found it has assisted me greatly in learning how to deal with such unpredictable and emotional beings.”  
Although it may have sounded insulting, Jean-Luc knew it was simple truth and didn’t react. Indeed he kept silent, giving tacit permission for the Doctor to continue.  
“It is by utilising these abilities of mine that I have come to the inescapable conclusion that you have shared information with Counsellor Troi that directly impacts on not only your current situation, but on your mission to Ereban and your order to the Counsellor to not divulge what she now knows is greatly distressing her, Captain. I have been observing her increasingly obvious signs of distress. Such is her distress and her need to confide in someone, she has requested I meet with her upon returning to the Enterprise. I can only surmise she intends to unburden herself to me.”  
Jean-Luc closed his eyes and sighed. Selar, still carefully watching the man, continued. “I am not seeking your approval or permission, Captain, merely informing you of what I believe is going to occur.”  
He turned and looked at Selar for the first time since she’d entered his cell. “And what do you intend to do with this...information?”  
“That depends, Captain, on what it is.”  
His eyes darkened. “Are you asking me to tell you?”  
Selar made a very human gesture in shrugging. “It would help, Captain, especially given Counsellor Troi’s difficulties.”  
Jean-Luc leaned back until he met the cold metal wall behind him. He then allowed his head to bump the wall, closed his eyes and sighed.  
“Very well.”  
Over the next half an hour, Jean-Luc told Selar all he knew, including his suspicions about Section 31, whose existence he had to explain as Selar was completely unaware of their reality. She confessed she had heard rumours of a clandestine entity that existed deep within the Federation, but without any proof, she chose not to believe. That, of course was the Vulcan way. No Vulcan would put any credence to a rumour without any proof as to its veracity. A rumour was just that. A rumour.  
When he had finished, he seemed drained as if the telling, again, only served to make his burden heavier instead of lighter. Quietly, Selar asked, “What do you want me to do, Captain?”  
His eyes opened and he lifted his body abruptly. “Nothing!” His tone was sharp. “In fact, Doctor, I’m giving you the same order I gave Counsellor Troi. You are not to divulge anything of what I’ve just told you to anyone, with the obvious exception of Deanna Troi. Is that clear, Doctor?”  
Selar’s gaze was steady, but she was confused. “Yes, Captain, but may I ask why, sir?”  
He closed his eyes and let out a short breath through his nose. “You must now realise there is much more at stake here than my life. Any interference could be disastrous.”  
“Yes, Captain, I can see that, sir, but what I do not see is why you have to permit your execution. It is illogical, Captain. If what you have told me is true, then the very laws you purport to submit yourself to are inherently flawed.”  
“That may be, Selar, but it is not my place, or yours to say so. Neither of us is in any position to protest. I have no other option but to accede. My oath to Starfleet demands it.”  
Tilting her head, Selar said quietly, “You would wish to uphold your oath in the face of what you suspect? Despite what you know sir?”  
His smile was a sad one. “Yes, because I have nothing but suspicions. No proof, Selar and I cannot break my word without incontrovertible proof.”  
“Captain, there is no point in becoming a martyr. It is illogical.”  
He snorted softly. “I’m not going to become a martyr, Selar, but I do hope my death brings about change. Change for the better for the Ereban people.”  
The rap on the door was loud in the quiet cell. Selar was reluctant to leave, but Jean-Luc offered her a smile. “If it helps, Selar, I am reconciled to my impending death. My only regret is the pain and distress it will cause my loved ones. I can only hope they will one day forgive me for leaving them, and that they come to understand that, although I seem to do so willingly, in my heart I would’ve given anything to stay with them, but I simply cannot.”  
The Vulcan stood and looked down at her Captain. He was immensely humbled when she clasped her hands in front of her and bowed low. “I honour thee, Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”  
She turned, picked up the medkit and left without another word spoken between them.  
She was being escorted out of the building when met by the hospital administrator in the foyer.  
“Doctor Selar?”  
“Yes.”  
“I am Cerran, the Administrator here at the hospital. I have a message from Advocate Jeran.”  
Selar bowed her head.  
“The Advocate has been told by the central law centre, that patient 55839 will be scheduled to stand trial as soon as he is deemed healthy.”  
Tilting her head, Selar frowned. “I do not understand.”  
Somewhat confused, the administrator said carefully, “What is it you don’t understand?”  
“Why is it necessary for Captain Picard to be healthy before he stands trial? As I understand it, your intention is to execute him immediately after the trial ends. What does his state of health have to do with anything? It is illogical. You are going to end his life whether he is sound of health or not.”  
The administrator’s eyes narrowed. “Of course it is necessary for him to be healthy! The State does not execute the unwell; that would be barbaric. To enter the afterlife, one has to be as physically fit as possible, just as one enters the world. Would you have the spirits offended?”  
Knowing it would be pointless to argue, Selar merely nodded. “I will inform him on my next visit.”  
She went to tap her communicator when the Female made it clear there was more. Lowering her hand, Selar inclined her head. The administrator reached inside her robe and removed a data holder and gave it to Selar. “The information about the execution is on here, but there are two things you should know, seeing as you’re all unfamiliar with our ways, so you can tell the patient and he has time to prepare. First, in the hours before his trial he will be required to produce three separate reproductive samples. Now, with an Ereban, this would have be done under anaesthetic and drugs would be required to encourage production of cells and seeds, but from what I understand, the patient is capable of securing the samples on his own. Is that correct?”  
Frowning, but keeping her own counsel, Selar nodded. “Yes, that is so.”  
“Then please inform the patient that four hours before the beginning of his trial, he will be required to produce the samples. Now, the other thing is that all members of his immediate family are required to attend his execution. They do not have to be at the trial, but their presence is required at the execution.”  
Selar sighed. “May I ask why either of these requirements are necessary?”  
As if speaking to a child, Cerran smiled and said kindly, “Well you wouldn’t want his family to be without the means to replenish his blood tie would you? I mean even criminals have some rights!” She then bent down and whispered, “Actually, it’s been decided that under the circumstances, your Captain deserves the chance to allow his partner to have another brood. He has a lot of...sympathisers. You mustn’t tell anyone about this; it’s something we here at the hospital have arranged.” She then straightened and became all business again. “As for the other, that’s Ereban law. The condemned’s family must attend to witness the execution, then wait while the blood is processed and the body restored. Once taking possession, they can leave together.”  
Glancing at the data holder, Selar nodded. “Very well, administrator, I will inform Captain Picard. Thank you.”  
Offering a brilliant smile, the Ereban nodded once, then left to return to her office. The Vulcan watched her go, wondering just how this news was going to be taken by either her Captain or his partner. She tapped her comm. badge and requested to be beamed up.

 

David sat in the chair in the living area, as he had done so since very early that morning, watching silently as his mother restlessly paced like a caged animal, her hands constantly wringing each other. He had tried to get her to sit, tried to get her to eat, but although she gave him what she tried to make a warm smile, it got nowhere near her dull eyes and her brittley bright words held nothing, no emotion at all. So he sat, his eyes tracking his mother’s passage around the room not even remembering that this day was his birthday. He was now seven years old.  
Beverly lifted her head and for the umpteenth time said impatiently,  
“Computer, is Doctor Selar aboard yet?”  
“No.”  
Seeing that his mother hand come to a standstill, David rose and went to her, gently taking her hand. “Come on Maman, come and sit with me, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”  
Beverly looked down at her son as if she hadn’t been aware he was in the room. “What?” Then she seemed to recognise him and offered the same blank smile. “Oh, no, sweetie, I’m not thirsty.”  
David closed his eyes and tried once more. “Please, Maman...just come and sit with me.”  
Suddenly very angry, Beverly snapped, “I said no! For God’s sake, David! Leave me be!”  
David, his heart breaking, retook his seat and returned to silently watching as his mother resumed her endless pacing.

 

The Commander of the invisible ship smiled coldly as he studied the image of the Enterprise E in orbit around Ereban. Snorting softly he said to no one in particular, “That thing is fucking huge.”  
A mildly amused voice behind him agreed. “Oh, yeah. She’s a bloody passenger liner compared with us.”  
The Commander’s eyes narrowed and his smile became predatory. “What do you think her Captain would say if he knew we could take out his behemoth with one, judiciously aimed torp...through his shields?”  
The other voice chuckled. “I don’t think he’d say too much, he’d be too busy shitting himself!”  
Both men laughed, then the Commander sighed. “With Picard locked up, it’s Riker in the big chair, isn’t it?”  
“Yep.”  
“Well, at least he’s all human.”  
The unseen man’s voice became hard. “You bet. There’s no fucking Borg nanites floating around in his body, inert or not.”  
The Commander grunted harshly.  
“Can you believe that fucker Picard was exonerated after Wolf 359?” The Commander asked with malice. “If it were left up to me, I would’ve sent him back to the fucking Borg...after we’d wiped his miserable brain.”  
“Hmph!” His companion grunted. “You’re too kind, Sir. I’d have taken the bastard somewhere quiet and phasered him into nothingness. And that would’ve been more than he deserved.”  
The Commander sighed and scratched his law. “Yeah, well the Director says unless the Council says otherwise, Picard is a fucking hero. Personally, I find his current predicament quite appropriate.”  
“Oh yeah. I’d just like to be the one to slit his damned throat!”  
“Ha! You and me both. Now, my friend, how is our cloak? Everything running okay?”  
“Yes, Sir, I ran a diagnostic only half an hour ago.”  
“Good. Wouldn’t do for the fucking huge ship out there to know about us, now would it?”  
“Ah...no. In fact that might prove to be a little embarrassing and very difficult to explain.”  
“Indeed.” The Commander swivelled his chair and patted his stomach. “I’m going aft to get something to eat. Can I get you anything?”  
“No thanks, Sir.”  
“Right, well we’ve got intel due in about two hours, keep an eye out for it will you? I might get some shut eye after I’ve eaten.”  
“Will do, Sir. Sleep well.”  
“I will,” He said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “Especially once that fucking Picard is stone motherless dead.”  
The subordinate laughed cruelly and shook his head.  
“Do they have flies down on that fucking ball of mud, Sir?”  
The Commander shrugged. “I dunno. Why?”  
“’Cause I was just wondering what Picard’s body would look like riddled with maggots.”  
The Commander snorted. “Three things, my young friend. One: sorry, no flies. Two: those stupid fucking Ereban shits will restore Picard’s body to its pristine glory to give back to that cold bitch of a partner and Three: I don’t think even maggots would eat a nanite-infested fucker like Picard. Even they have standards!”  
The older man left the Bridge just his subordinate picked up a PADD. On it was the last intel from the Council, courtesy of the neighbouring planets. Raising his head, the young man stared down at Ereban and shook his head.  
“You stupid, ignorant fuckers.” He sighed and idly scratched his groin. “You have absolutely no idea what’s about to happen.” Casting a wary look over his shoulder to make sure he really was alone, he lifted his legs and placed his feet on the console in front of him. “Still, I suppose it’s for the greater good. It’s not as if you’re going to have any say in the matter or be able to lift a finger to stop it.”  
He settled in to wait for the coming transmission.

 

As soon as Selar materialised on the Enterprise, the computer informed Beverly. Her ceaseless pacing stopped and she slapped her comm. badge hard enough to bruise the skin under her shirt.  
“Crusher to Selar!”  
“Selar here, Doctor.”  
“I want to see you in my quarters immediately!”  
“I cannot come immediately, Doctor, I have something of importance I must see to, however, once I am free I will come to you.”  
Anger spiked in Beverly and she made no attempt to hide it.  
“Not good enough, Selar! I’m giving you a direct order. Get to my quarters now!”  
Selar’s calm, emotionless reply only served to make Beverly angrier.  
“I am sorry, Doctor Crusher, but as your current status is one of being relieved of duty, as such you cannot give me an order, direct or not. However, I will come to you as soon as I have concluded my present duties. Selar out.”  
Mouth gaping, her hands fisted at the ends of her stiff arms Beverly’s head turned from side-to-side until her eyes fell on what she sought. In two quick strides she snatched up a beautiful crystal vase and raised it above her head. David shot out of his seat and grabbed her shirt, reaching for her upraised arm and shouting, “No, Maman! Papa gave that to you, don’t smash it, Maman, please, don’t...”  
She didn’t hear him, she’d didn’t even notice him. With furious force she threw the vase across the room where it exploded against the wall in a mass of chunks and shards. When she growled and turned to make her way to the doors, David tried to stop her.  
“Maman, no! You’ve been ordered to stay here, in our quarters. Aunt Deanna issued the order and if you...”  
She hit him so hard across his face he was knocked off his feet and tumbled sideways to the floor. With his hand covering his bruised cheek, he stared wide-eyed and uncomprehending as his beloved mother glared down at him with an expression so fierce he wet himself in terror.  
Beverly said nothing; she simply stepped around her son and walked briskly out the doors.  
David had been born on the Enterprise and had spent his entire life aboard, so he was well versed in shipboard procedures. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he lifted his head and said tremulously,  
“David Picard to Counsellor Troi.”  
Hearing his distress, Deanna concentrated and felt him.  
“David, it’s Aunt Deanna. What’s happened?”  
“Maman just broke a vase Papa had given her and then, when I tried to stop her leaving our quarters she...she...” He took a deep breath, doing his best to not cry, but failing. “She hit me, Aunt Deanna and then she left. I think she’s trying to find Doctor Selar.”  
“Are you all right, David? Are you hurt?”  
Tasting blood in his mouth, David wiped at his tears.  
“I don’t know...I think so...maybe a little.”  
“All right, stay where you are, someone will be with you very soon to bring you to Sick Bay. I’ll see you there.”  
“Okay, Aunt Dee, but...”  
“Yes?”  
“Help her, Aunt Dee, she needs help.”  
“I will, David, Troi out.”  
Deanna then tapped her comm. badge.  
“Security, this is Counsellor Troi. I want a detail here at my quarters immediately. Sick Bay, send a Doctor to Captain Picard’s quarters. I believe his son, David Picard has been injured. Troi out.”  
Selar looked at Deanna, her gaze intense. “You believe she is dangerous?”  
Her face set in a worried frown, Deanna sighed. “You heard David. His mother has struck him. Have you ever known either Captain Picard or Doctor Crusher to ever physically abuse their children?”  
“No, I have not and it is certainly atypical behaviour. She will be here soon. I suggest you let me deal with her.”  
Deanna was about to protest when the discussion became moot. Deanna’s black eyes glittered and she took an involuntary step back. Beverly’s fury reached her before the woman herself did.  
“She’s here.”  
The doors parted and Beverly stalked in, her blue eyes blazing with feral anger. Selar moved to stand in front of Deanna, thus shielding her. The security team arrived just as Beverly began to shout.  
“Your insubordination will not be tolerated, Selar! I am the CMO and you will obey my orders!” She took a step closer. “And if you refuse, Captain Picard himself will make sure you’re reassigned to another ship where your fucking arrogant behaviour won’t affect the fine standards Captain Picard has set!”  
Seeing that it would be pointless to try and reason with her, Selar bowed her head and adopted a quiet, submissive tone.  
“I offer my apologies, Doctor. You are correct, of course.”  
Narrowing her gaze with suspicion, Beverly lifted her chin and said coldly, “I was supposed to see Captain Picard today, but the computer says he’s not on the ship. Where the hell is he?”  
Taking a calculated risk, Deanna stepped out from behind Selar and smiled, earning a hot glare from Beverly, who hissed,  
“You! Why did you order me off duty and confined to quarters? What gives you the right to do that? I want to know what the hell is going on! Where is Jean-Luc?”  
While Beverly had been haranguing Deanna, Selar had been moving surreptitiously closer to the incensed woman. Beverly’s eyes remained fixed on Deanna. She chanced a glance at the security detail and Beverly flinched, spinning around. Selar moved with grace and speed. As Beverly yelled, “What the fuck...?” Selar delivered a nerve pinch, catching Beverly and lowering her gently to the floor as consciousness fled.  
The Lieutenant leading the security detail stepped into the room, holstering her phaser.  
“Everything okay now, sir?”  
Deanna nodded, letting out a long breath. “Yes, thank you, Lieutenant, we can handle it from here.” She then lifted her head to say firmly, “Transporter Room, this is Counsellor Troi. Three to beam to Sick Bay from my current location.”  
“Aye, Counsellor. Energising.”  
It took mere minutes for Beverly to be placed on a biobed and a restraining field put in place. Seeing David sitting nearby, Deanna went to him and, feeling his confusion, bewilderment and fear, she drew up a chair and took him into her embrace. He resisted as best he could, but the emotions that were tumbling through him won and he lost control, sobbing with heartbreaking intensity.  
Slowly he calmed and, just like his father would do, attempted to quash his feelings. Manfully he wiped his face and took the offered tissue silently. Having restored some of his dignity, he managed to ask,  
“What’s happened to Maman?”  
Sighing, Deanna glanced over her shoulder at Beverly’s prone form. Turning back to David she said gently,  
“Do you know what a relapse is?”  
The boy nodded, but he was frowning. “I think so. Isn’t that when you’re better, but then you get sick again?”  
Smiling, Deanna nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”  
David looked over at his mother then back at Deanna. “Is that what’s happened to Maman? She’s had a relapse?”  
“Yes, I think so.” Deanna noticed David was feeling embarrassed and couldn’t quite reconcile his feelings with what he now knew. Very gently, Deanna took David’s hands and looked into his troubled eyes. “What is it, David?”  
He bowed his head and sighed. He’d known Deanna all his life and knew his parents not only enjoyed a deep friendship with her, but trusted her implicitly. Added to that David’s own love for his Aunt, he decided to make the most humiliation admission of his short life. Barely whispering, he said, “I wet my pants.”  
Treating the admission with the gravity it deserved, Deanna tightened her grip on his hands. “David that can happen to anyone, even adults given the right circumstances.”  
He looked up, stricken. “But I’m seven now and it was Maman! I know she didn’t mean it.”  
Somehow Deanna had to make David see that his reaction to shock and fear had been absolutely normal without referring to the fact that although he thought of himself as ‘grown up’ he was still but a child. “David, if I tell you something really private about your Papa, will you promise me never to repeat it? Not to anyone?”  
He nodded solemnly, whispering, “I promise.”  
“You know that your Papa was assimilated by the Borg.” David nodded, but Deanna knew he didn’t really understand. When he had started school, his parents had decided to tell him, only so if it ever came up either as teasing by other students or even in the school curriculum, he would already know. Jean-Luc and Beverly had always intended to give him more detailed information as he grew older. For now, he had nothing but a vague impression that whatever it was, it was very bad.  
“Well,” Said Deanna. “It took a very long time for your Papa to get better after that and even now he still has the occasional nightmare about it. But what I think is important for you to know is that when he was getting better, in the early stages, he would get so frightened he sometimes wet the bed.”  
David gaped, his eyes wide. “Papa? Papa wet the bed? But he’s a grown up.”  
“Yes and that’s my point, David. It can happen to anyone, grown up or a child, even someone as brave as your Papa.”  
After a few moments. David’s gaze left Deanna and drifted to his mother. “Can you make Maman better?”  
“Yes,” Smiled Deanna. “I think I can.”  
David nodded, but his expression was unreadable, just like his father. “And she won’t...relapse?”  
That made Deanna sigh and lower her head. “I can’t guarantee that, David. It might happen, it might not.”  
His hand came up involuntarily to his cheek making Deanna ask, “Are you better now, David? Were you badly hurt?”  
Still gazing at his mother, David shook his head, his voice small. “No, I wasn’t badly hurt, just a cut inside my mouth, some teeth loosened and a bruise on my cheek. I’m better now.”  
Yes, thought Deanna. You’ve had your physical injuries healed, but what about your psychological ones?  
To that end, Deanna squeezed David’s hands to gain his attention. “She didn’t mean it, David. I know your Maman just as well as you do and you and I both know there’s no way she would ever use physical violence against you.”  
His dark eyes glittered with welling tears. “Then why?”  
“Remember when she retreated? To that safe place in her mind?”  
He nodded silently.  
“Well, your Maman is feeling very frightened right now and she can’t find that safe place, so she’s feeling scared and very confused. Although she loves you with all her heart, right now all she wants to do is be with your Papa. Now that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be with you, David, it’s just that although she might not admit it, she knows what your Papa is facing and wants...no...needs to be with him. Doctor Selar had told your Maman that you could both go down to the planet to see him today, but somehow, probably overnight while she slept, things got muddled up in her mind so that when she woke up, she’d forgotten what had happened.”  
David frowned, lifting his hands to give form to his words. “But Aunt Deanna what about Monique and the baby? Has she forgotten them too?”  
Lifting her head to stare at the ceiling, Deanna considered the question.  
“Try to think of it this way. When your Maman couldn’t find her safe place, she went half way. She is in what we call an altered state. Until I can talk to her, I can’t be sure exactly where she is, but it seems certain that it’s at a time before she had you or Monique or was pregnant. That’s why it’s so important for her to get to your Papa. He occupies all of her mind right now.”  
With a sigh so deep it raised and lowered his shoulders, David showed great maturity by observing, “She doesn’t know I exist.”  
“Not right now, no. But she will, David, don’t worry.”  
Mumbling, Deanna had to ask him to repeat himself.  
“I said, that’s why she hit me. She didn’t even know who I was.”  
There was little Deanna could say to that, so she encouraged him to his feet and led him, albeit reluctantly, over to his mother. Speaking softly, Deanna said, “She’ll be waking up soon, and there’s a chance she might be back. Just as she became muddled last night, this sleep might help her to regain herself. Be here, David, when she wakes up. You just might be exactly what she needs to see.”  
He nodded and sat in the chair Deanna got for him. Giving his shoulder a squeeze, the Counsellor said, “I have to go and talk with Doctor Selar now. I’ll come back later.”  
He nodded, but Deanna felt his unease. It was with some regret that she left him and joined Selar in Beverly’s office.

 

The Ensign at Tactical hadn’t much experience on the Bridge, or indeed manning the tactical station, but he’d been well trained and when, for the fifth time he noticed the small anomaly he knew he had to say something. Mustering a steady voice he said,  
“Commander Riker? Could you come here, please sir?”  
Rising from the Command chair, a less than genial Exec joined the nervous young man. The Ensign’s nervousness increased when Will said sourly, “What is it?”  
Pointing at his screen and trying to keep his finger from twitching, the Ensign said, “I think that is a subspace interphase pocket, sir.”  
Squinting, Will’s law muscles clenched. “How is that possible, Ensign?”  
Swallowing, the young man replied, “I don’t know, sir, but I’ve seen the spike five times in the last hour and I know that can’t be right.”  
Will studied the readouts and grunted. “Well done, Ensign.” He muttered absently before raising his head and calling, “Riker to LaForge.”  
“LaForge, here.”  
“Come up to the Bridge will you Geordi, there’s something here I think you should see.”  
“On my way, Sir. LaForge out.”  
Regaining his seat, Will glared at the planet below. “Now what?”

 

With his Captain held on the planet, facing a very uncertain future, almost all of the Enterprise’s crew were depressed, none more so than the senior staff. For many years, before Jean-Luc and Beverly had finally become a couple, the only members of his crew that Jean-Luc would allow to get close to him were his senior staff and, over the years they had become his closest friends, but even then he kept a certain distance between them and himself. It was only after he and Beverly had become lovers that he slowly began to allow his friends to get closer, to take a greater part in his private life and so given the current situation, it was little wonder feelings of frustration and anger permeated the ship.  
Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge was one of the couple’s close friends and felt the frustration of not being able to use any of his extensive skills as the ship’s Chief Engineer to help his Captain. It was with some relief that he entered the Bridge, glad to have something to take his mind off his depressing thoughts.  
Looking over his shoulder, Will gestured to the Tactical station with his bearded chin.  
“The Ensign has something to show you, Geordi. See what you can make of it.”  
Offering a small smile at the obviously nervous young man, Geordi moved to his side and peered down at the console, his blue ocular implants adjusting for clarity of vision.  
“So, what have we got?”  
“Um...I think...Sir...a subspace interphase pocket.”  
Geordi’s eyebrows rose in genuine interest. “Really?” He tapped a few commands and silently absorbed the displayed information, muttering quietly, “Well, I’ll be damned.”  
Will, having heard Geordi’s soft exclamation, rose from his chair and made his way to the station. “What?”  
Shrugging and scratching the side of his head, Geordi raised his eyebrows. “The Ensign is right. That...” He pointed to the readout. “Indicates a subspace interphase pocket...and it’s nearby.”  
Trying to curb his impatience, Will took a deep breath and let it our slowly. “Okay, what exactly is a subspace interphase pocket?”  
Geordi gestured to the Ensign, giving him tacit approval to answer the Exec’s question. The nervous young man ordered his thoughts and took a steadying breath. “It’s a relatively newly discovered phenomenon, Commander, we’ve only known about it for about eight months. It’s when a pocket of subspace intrudes...or bulges, if you like, into normal space.”  
Raising his eyebrows, Will pulled down the corners of his mouth. “Dangerous?”  
The young man shrugged, then panicked when he thought such a gesture was probably inappropriate, but neither of the senior officers seemed to notice. “We don’t actually know, sir.”  
That made Will scowl. “So I take it we don’t know what causes it?”  
“No, Sir, but...”  
It was Geordi who said with gentle encouragement,  
“It’s okay, Ensign, you’re doing fine. If you know something, spit it out.”  
“Well, sirs, the most up-to-date theory is that it could be caused by using the latest generation of cloaks.”  
Folding his arms over his barrelled chest, Will narrowed his eyes and asked quietly, “And you know this how?”  
Blushing, the young man shifted his feet. “I was part of the team who installed the upgrades to the Enterprise’s senor arrays and, as part of that team we were instructed in the capabilities of the arrays as they now are.”  
“Okay,” Said Will, “So what are you doing on the ship? Why aren’t you still at McKinley Station?”  
Glancing at Geordi and gaining courage from his smile, the Ensign began to calm down. “I want to be an Engineer, sir, but really the only way I could advance is to either get on board a ship like the Enterprise, or get myself posted to the Utopia Planitia ship yards, but the wait for rotation to the Yards is huge, so...”  
Will’s voice showed just a trace of humour when he observed wryly, “It’s just as hard to get on the Enterprise, Ensign. We only take the best.”  
His blush deepening, the Ensign nodded. “I know, Commander, but while the ship was at McKinley, I found out a position was available for an Engineering tech. I applied and somehow, I got accepted, but honestly, sir, I don’t know how.”  
Geordi’s voice was laced with sadness as he said, “It was Captain Picard, Ensign. He saw your application and brought it to my attention. I saw how good you were at what you do and that, coupled with your very good recommendations from your team leaders, well, let’s just say the Captain was happy to have you.”  
Bringing the discussion back on track, Will pointed at the console. “So, what’s causing it? Could there be a cloaked ship hovering close by?”  
Geordi sighed, muttering, “I wish Data was still with us. He’d have this figured out in minutes...if not sooner.”  
Placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, Will commiserated. “I know, Geordi, we all miss him, but he’s not here any more and we’re just going to have to figure this out on our own.”  
The big First Officer looked at the Ensign with warmth. “Ensign?”  
The young man smiled. “Wilkerson, sir, Keith Wilkerson.”  
“Right, Keith. You are now relieved from tactical. Please assist Commander LaForge in finding out just what that is.”  
With one final glare at the console, Will went back to the Command chair, musing darkly to himself, “As if we don’t have enough on our plate! Fuck! Now we have to consider the likelihood of a cloaked fucking ship. Great!”  
He glared at the planet and tried to let the low murmurings of Geordi and Keith calm him down.

 

“So,” Deanna said, slumped in her chair. “You can see how this whole thing is nothing but some kind of giant...conspiracy.”  
Selar was also seated. However, unlike Deanna’s defeated slump, her posture was perfect.

“Is there any way anything of what you have told me can be verified?” The Vulcan said with a tilt of her head.  
Deanna shrugged. “I don’t see how. On the face of it this mission was ostensibly to assess Ereban as a potential member of the Federation. How everything else fits in...” She shrugged again. “I’ve no idea.”  
Selar’s voice was unemotional, as usual, but Deanna knew her well enough to pick up the nuances of her speech and she clearly heard anxiousness. “We must do something, Counsellor. Unless we can uncover the conspiracy, Captain Picard will die a needless death.”  
Sighing and trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice, Deanna grimaced. “I know, but how? Look, Selar, this involves the very heart of the Federation. The Council itself is implicated and as for Section 31...” She shook her head with anger. “We’re not even supposed to know it exists! How the hell can we prove the involvement of something that to all intents and purposes no one knows about? Certainly no one on the Council, the Federation President or even Starfleet Command is going to admit it! That would implicate all of them!”  
Frowning, Selar lowered her eyes to stare at her hands. “I do not understand what the ulterior motive is. What could possibly be gained from admitting a clearly unsuitable world into the Federation? And the changes, the genetic shifts; how does that fit with what the Captain knows?”  
“He doesn’t know.” Deanna plexed, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Like I told you, he never made contact with the covert operative within the Ereban government.”  
“But was it an operative? From what you said, I gained the impression it was more like a group of Ereban citizens who were working towards uncovering something...hidden.”  
Deanna sighed and pushed her fingers into her eyes. “Does it matter? The point is he didn’t make contact and in the interim disaster struck.”  
Sitting forward in an uncharacteristic display of eagerness, Selar’s gaze was piercing. “Yes, Counsellor, but we know now that the...disaster...of which you speak was most probably orchestrated by someone, or more than one, with a very different agenda to the one the Captain thought he was dealing with. Advocate Jeran said as much herself. Those involved had enough technological assistance to access the sub archive remotely, apparently over and above the level of technology the Ereban current employ.”  
Looking up at her companion, Deanna’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re suggesting there’s more than Section 31 interfering?”  
“Perhaps. Have you considered the Ereban themselves might be in conflict, albeit covertly?”  
“Conflict?” Said a confused Counsellor. “Do you mean lurin against ‘normal’ Ereban?”  
“No, not necessarily. It may not be as simple as that. The Captain mentioned the warring neighbouring planets and their intent to conquer Ereban by inducing genetic change through the lurin, but what if there was more to it than that?”  
Seeing Deanna’s intense gaze, Selar tilted her head in deep thought. “The Typhon Pact is ready for war, the Captain himself knows this, but to what end? All out war with the Federation, or something more subtle? And the Federation. They too are aware of the inevitable conflict that is brewing with the Typhon Pact. So what is at stake here? The quadrant...or one planet?”  
Unable to sit any longer, Deanna got up and began to pace. “What are you saying, Selar?”  
“What do you know of Eugenics?”  
Deanna shrugged. “It was an attempt to create super...” She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “You don’t think...”  
With a one shoulder shrug, Selar sighed. “Why not? We know that human DNA is present in all three species in this system.”  
“But the Captain theorised that was because Khan Noonien Singh’s sleeper ship must have somehow ended up here and he and his followers interbred with the local species.”  
Bowing her head, Selar agreed. “Yes, Counsellor, but I must wonder if that was a random act or a deliberate one?” Before Deanna could protest, Selar held up her hand. “Think about it, Counsellor. What if, at the end of the Eugenics war, Khan and his followers were somehow programmed, perhaps by an embryonic Section 31 or a forerunner, and were meant to breed with a predetermined type of alien species? One perhaps strong and intelligent? Or, on the other hand, perhaps Khan’s involvement in this system was completely random, but on discovering what had occurred much later, centuries in fact, the Council chose to take advantage of it? You must admit, once the lurin are the dominant example of the species, the population of Ereban is going to explode. Lurin breed indiscriminately, they are not bound by the normal strictures of Ereban customs or physical impediments of slow reproduction.”  
Deanna couldn’t process what was being suggested. “Are you saying the Federation is deliberately breeding a soldier species?”  
Again, Selar shrugged. “If the Federation is facing war with the Typhon Pact, then it would be advantageous to have a ready supply of individuals to fight with, would it not? The ancient Earth term was, I believe, ‘cannon fodder’.”  
Still pacing, Deanna’s hands became restless. “All right, let’s for the moment say you’re right. Why then would there be factions within Ereban society at war with each other?”  
“Because I believe there are those who have realised what is happening and wish to take responsibility for their own destiny. Be their own masters, as it were. They may not be able to stop what is happening to them, and certainly in human terms, they won’t see change in their life time, but I feel they wish the Ereban, whatever that eventually means, to be autonomous and not slaves to anyone, especially not those responsible for their forced false evolutionary changes.”  
Danna’s face paled. “But if that’s the case, then we can’t do anything about it!”  
Selar merely bowed her head. Deanna gasped. “And what of Captain Picard?”  
“It is regrettable; Counsellor, but I cannot see how we or anyone else can help him. Things have progressed too far. He is but a casualty of an undeclared war. In all likelihood, he was doomed before he even set foot on the planet. You know the kind of man he is and so does the Council. They needed to seem, at least on the surface, to be doing the normal, benevolent thing they always did and sent the best man for the job, knowing full well he could not in good conscience give an positive assessment of Ereban. With him out of the way, and seemingly without any interference from the Council, they are now free to send someone who is more aligned with their plans.”  
“My God!”  
“Indeed.”

 

The crewman on the hidden ship had been dozing. His Commander hadn’t returned from his meal and with nothing much to do, the man became bored and decided to take some time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. It was a quiet beeping that roused him, blinking and grumbling sourly under his breath.  
“What the fuck?”  
One look at his console had him scrambling upright in his seat and urgently summoning his Commander. The older man came quickly, irritated at being disturbed. “This better be good!” He barked.  
Pointing at his console, the younger man gritted his teeth. “They’re on to us!”  
Being more experienced, the Commander wasn’t so easily panicked. “Have they made any move? Given any indication that they know exactly what it is they’ve found?”  
Glancing through the viewscreen at the image of the Enterprise, the seated man shook his head. “No, but they’ve detected the subspace interphase pocket.”  
The Commander shrugged. “So? As far as they know, it could be anything!” He glowered down at his subordinate. “Jesus, they’ve only known about SIPs for a year at most, and only a few ships have the means to detect them! Okay, they might have detected ours, but there’s no fucking way they know what it is they’ve actually discovered.”  
Taking a steadying breath, the younger man swallowed.  
“Okay, sir, so what do we do?”  
“What do we do? Nothing! Until they show us they know we’re here, ignore them! They’re bumbling around in the fucking dark!”  
He turned to leave the cockpit, but hesitated and snarled, “And don’t be such a lily-livered shit stirrer. Make sure you know what the fuck you’re doing before you bother me!”  
As the Commander left, the crewman turned to glare out into space, his hatred and anger directed towards the Enterprise.

 

It had been some days since Jeran and Absum had met and much had transpired. Absum was now sure Jeran was lurin, but where once that information would’ve disgusted and alarmed the Doctor, she now accepted the Advocate’s difference with equanimity.  
They had met at Jeran’s request and by the seclusion of the venue, Absum was confidently sure that the Advocate had important news. She smiled to herself as she also had something stunning to tell her legal colleague.  
In a park on the eastern fringe of the capital, the two females walked, heads bowed in deep conversation. It was Jeran who was speaking and although her voice was soft, her tone was urgent.  
“I haven’t got to the bottom of this yet, Doctor, but my...enquiries... have led to some very disturbing information.” She halted, bringing her companion to a stop as well. Casting a thorough look around to make sure, yet again, that they were alone, Jeran looked Absum in the eyes and said, “You know what I am.”  
Absum nodded, making sure nothing but calm acceptance showed in her eyes. Grateful, Jeran offered a small bow and a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doctor; I wasn’t sure how you would...”  
Shaking her head, Absum smiled sadly. “I have been blind far too long, Jeran and what I’ve witnessed recently has not only opened my eyes fully, but changed my perceptions of who and what I am...and who and what we, as Ereban are going to become. But what I don’t know is why?”  
Gently taking Absum’s elbow, Jeran started them walking again. “I’ve learned several incredible things. Absum. I now know that these...changes...the development of lurin has been at the hands of outside influences. Someone, and as yet I don’t know who, has deliberately...seeded...our atmosphere with microscopic genetic messages. This was done some time ago, at least one generation before the first lurin was ever discovered, perhaps even earlier than that, I don’t know, but there can be no doubt. It was a deliberate act!”  
Absum nodded, her face grim. “I know. Two nights ago I dissected the most extraordinary being I’ve ever seen. Outwardly it looked like a normal Ereban, but it wasn’t! It was definitely male, but its interior structures, its organs were subtly different as if it had once been very different, but was in the process of becoming like us.”  
Tilting her head, Jeran narrowed her eyes. “Surgical alteration?”  
Absum shook her head. “No, definitely not.” She said firmly. “No, this being was close, Jeran, almost, but not quite Ereban.”  
Jeran didn’t want to ask the next question, but she simply had to. “Lurin?”  
Absum shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t like any lurin I’ve ever seen, but perhaps...”  
Arching one pale eyebrow, Jeran said softly, “Perhaps?”  
Again shrugging, Absum sighed deeply. “Jeran, we’re talking about what’s to come. I can’t discard the possibility that I may have been seeing a version of our future selves and that of course means lurin.”  
“But how?” Asked an obviously confused Jeran. “How is it possible you saw such an evolved specimen...if that is indeed what it was?”  
Absum rubbed her brow, she’d been thinking about this so hard it was beginning to make her head sore. “Jeran, what I’m about to say may sound...irrational, but it is the only plausible thing I can come up with.”  
“Go on.”  
“What if the being I dissected wasn’t what we’re to become, but one of those who were responsible for what’s happening?”  
Jeran lifted her head and again scanned the area with her sharp gaze while giving the question considerable thought. “You are aware of what you’re suggesting? If you’re right, then we have, walking among us...aliens who look, at least on the outside, just like us.” Raising her hand, the Advocate pinched her lower lip. “So, if it’s true, what is their purpose?” Tilting her head, Jeran asked quietly, “Was it genetically compatible? Could it breed with us?”  
Absum’s face showed her answer before she vocalised it. “Yes, most definitely.”  
As Absum stood still, Jeran walked in a slow circle around her. “So what do we have? On the one hand we have Ereban like me...lurin...created for some as yet unknown purpose and now it seems there is further interference through what? Alien interbreeding? Why?”  
Absum chose her next words very carefully. “While I don’t know the answers to those questions, don’t you think it interesting...convenient even, that we discover the presence of an alien at the same time our government makes a petition to join the Federation? We have Starship in orbit and its Captain awaiting trial for a capital offence. I don’t know about you, Jeran, but I was vehemently against the governments’ overtures to the Federation and now that they’re here, look what’s happened. An explosion in the number of lurin, Ereban exhibiting what could only be described as deviant behaviour and now we know about clandestine groups and aliens among us. There has to be a connection!”  
Snapping her fingers, Jeran hissed, “Acceleration!”  
Narrowing her eyes, Absum said warily, “What?”  
Again taking her elbow, both females resumed walking. “Whatever is going on, for some reason it’s being accelerated...brought forward. Obviously things were moving too slowly.” She scratched her hair and grimaced. “What we have to find out is what it is they need us for. Why have they changed us and why do they now need those changes to accelerate?”  
Sighing, Absum shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m in a position to find those answers.”  
That made Jeran snort with wry amusement. “Absum, my friend, only a few weeks ago, I was a spectacularly unsuccessful Advocate, and you were content to be a visiting Doctor at the State mental institution, doing a small, but interesting amount of research in your spare time. Now look at us! Meeting in secret to discuss the ramifications of a plot most probably instigated by those who were duty bound to protect us! Neither of us are equipped to answer any of our questions, but answer them we must! It will put us...our families...our bond mates in grave danger. In fact...” Absum sighed deeply, making Jeran move closer. “Absum? What is it?”  
Smiling sadly, the Doctor’s eyes glittered with tears. “They already have my bond mate.”  
Jeran gasped. “By the All Seeing One! Why did you agree to this meeting?”  
Shrugging with fatalism, Absum shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, does it? If they so wish, they will kill him no matter what I do. I might as well try to find out why he died...what he died for. At least, even if it means my own death, I will die knowing why.”  
Her years as an Advocate had inured Jeran somewhat to sentimentality, but she couldn’t help but feel desperately sorry for Absum. Gathering her thoughts and courage, Jeran took Absum’s elbow and squeezed it. The spark of defiance growing.  
“What sort of contacts do you have?”  
Shrugging again, Absum pulled down the corners of her mouth. “Not many, but those I have are well placed.”  
Jeran smiled coldly. “Mine too. Look, I’m not suggesting we can solve this on our own, but I think together we might be able to make the right people aware of what we know. Maybe it’ll be enough to start something.”  
“Something? That’s a little vague, isn’t it?”  
The Advocate chuckled and shook her head. “Yes it is, and it’s mainly because I have absolutely no idea how to start a revolution, my dear Doctor, but if that’s what it takes to protect Ereban, then that’s what has to happen.”  
Absum gaped, then swallowed, suddenly feeling nauseous. “A revolution? And you think we can do that?”  
“Well, it has to start somewhere.”  
“But we don’t even know for sure...”  
Leaning close until their faces were almost touching, Jeran said with deadly intent, “Then we must find out!”  
Looking about again, the Advocate put some distance between them and said mildly, “We should go our separate ways now, Doctor. I’ll be in touch.”  
Absum, still stunned, watched silently as Jeran walked briskly away. It wasn’t until Absum had reached her ground vehicle on the opposite side of the park that she saw a male sitting in it. With her mouth suddenly dry she got in and stared straight ahead as the male said quietly, “I think we should have a chat about who you should be talking too, Doctor.”  
As a physician, Absum knew Ereban could not die of heart failure, but her heart began to beat so fast she wondered if she just might be the first.

David knew his mother was regaining consciousness. She took a deep breath and smiled, but just as quickly as the smile had emerged, it vanished to be replaced with a grimace. Her eyes opened then and she sought her son, who’d been sitting on her bed, holding her hand. The restraining field had been removed.  
“Hello, Maman, how do you feel?”  
Sitting up, Beverly put her free hand over her shoulder and rotated her head. Her frown was a deep one and her tone angry.  
“A nerve pinch.” Lifting her head, she called,  
“Doctor Selar, this is Doctor Crusher. I would like to see you. Now.”  
There was no reply, further angering Beverly, but Selar’s appearance at her bedside mollified Beverly somewhat. “You’ve given me a nerve pinch. Why?”  
With typical Vulcan emotionless delivery, Selar said quietly, “You were irrational, Doctor and considered a danger to yourself and those around you.”  
“Nonsense!” Beverly spat. “How could you make such a fatuous claim?!”  
Calmly, Selar said, “You struck your son, Doctor.”  
Beverly gaped, her eyes travelling to David who had lowered his head. “What? I hit my son?”  
Gently lifting his chin, he kept his gaze lowered. Beverly’s voice clearly carried her distress. “David? Is it true? Did I hit you?”  
All he could do was nod, but in a small voice he said, “It wasn’t your fault, Maman. You couldn’t find a safe place and you got confused.”  
Before Beverly could say anything further, Selar asked, “What do you remember, Doctor Crusher?”  
“Remember?” Her eyes narrowed. “About what?”  
Deanna, having sensed the strong, turbulent emotion surging through her best friend, arrived at the bed and said, “Where is Monique right now?”  
As soon as Deanna saw Beverly’s eyes fill with tears she knew the Doctor remembered her four year old daughter was dead. Now she had to ask if Beverly remembered anything of her recent delusional behaviour.  
“Do you remember hitting David?”  
Mouth ajar, Beverly was shaking her head when she suddenly gasped and brought her hand to cover her mouth.  
“No! Oh, my God, no!” Turning to her son, she wrapped him in her arms, sobbing, “Oh, David...I’m so sorry...so very sorry!”  
It took some time for Beverly to calm and it was David who helped her to regain her composure. While she sobbed he talked to her softly and in French. When she was finally able to look him in the eye, she smiled tenderly and gently stroked his hair.  
“So like your Papa.”  
Selar moved a little closer and said quietly, “Would you both like to transport down to the planet to see Captain Picard?”  
Beverly’s lower lip trembled, but she managed to say in a very small voice, “Yes. We would.” David merely nodded. Only Deanna knew he was so frightened he didn’t really want to go.  
“I will contact the medical facility and arrange a time.”  
Nodding her thanks to the Vulcan, Beverly looked at her son and smiled. “It’ll be good to see Papa, won’t it.”  
Again, all David did was nod, his head lowered. Deanna stepped closer and gently took his arm, saying to Beverly, “I just want to have a chat with David. He’ll be back soon.”  
Beverly was annoyed, she’d yet to find out if she’d hurt her son, certainly she knew she’d hurt him emotionally and wanted time to try and heal the damage she’d caused. She couldn’t do that if the boy was off with Deanna, but she had no option but to agree. Besides she thought it most likely their ‘chat’ would be about what she’d done anyway. She was wrong.  
Ushering David into the Sick Bay Observation lounge, Deanna sat them together and said quietly, “Why are you so frightened about seeing your father?”  
At first David, keeping his head lowered just shrugged, but it was a token show of resistance. He knew his Aunt wouldn’t let the matter rest until she had a satisfactory answer.  
“I just don’t want to see him. Not down there.”  
“Why?”  
He became very angry. His hold on his emotions was tenuous and he felt tears threatening, but the last thing he wanted to do right then was cry. So instead he shot to his feet, fisted his hands and beat them on the tabletop, shouting, “Because I said so!”  
Deanna, calm as always simply waited. David began to stalk around the room, shoving chairs out of his way and kicking anything within reach. When the storm finally abated, he collapsed to the floor, curled up in a ball and wept, quietly and forlornly.  
Deanna went to him, sat and gathered him into her arms. “It’s all right to be frightened, David, you know that. But why don’t you want to see your father?”  
Barely audible, he said through hiccupping breaths, “I don’t want to see him in that place. The skin on his face is all disgusting and he has to wear clothes that don’t fit and the people in that place want to kill him and there’s nothing I can do! I can’t help him and I can’t stop them! And they killed Monique and the baby and everything is gone. I want it back like it was, Aunt Deanna, why can’t I make it all go back the way it was? We were so happy. If they kill Papa, no one will ever be happy again...not ever.”  
Struck by the prophetic nature of David’s heartbreaking words, Deanna was speechless. All she could do was hold the poor boy and rock him.

 

Beverly and David waited outside while Selar washed, shaved and assisted in redressing her captain. It was only through her Vulcan stoicism that allowed her to show no emotion as she exited the cell and gestured for mother and son to enter.  
As soon as they did, Selar said to the guard, “I wish to speak with the Administrator.”  
“I will advise Administrator Cerran of your request. Please wait.”  
Nodding her acceptance, Selar watched as the guard summoned another to take her place while she went to deliver the request.  
Jean-Luc was seated on the bench not knowing quite what to do. He wanted to hug his wife and son, he wanted to weep and shout out the injustice of his situation, he wanted to take their faces in his hands and kiss them with all the tenderness he could summon, but he did none of these things. He just sat, staring up at them while they, just as confused and paralysed, stood inside the closed metal door.  
It was Jean-Luc who broke the impasse by saying something so inane it made both Beverly and David laugh.  
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you any refreshments.”  
Their laughter caused Jean-Luc to begin to laugh too, but all three quickly descended into chocking sobs. Taking their places, one each side of him, they gathered in each other’s arms and wept brokenheartedly.  
It was some minutes before Jean-Luc lifted his head and said, not bothering to even try to stop crying, “I’m so sorry.”  
Lifting her head from his shoulder, Beverly hiccupped, “You don’t...you don’t have to...Jean-Luc...don’t...please...don’t...”  
He held her tighter, aware that David too was hugging him fiercely. “I must, Beverly. My oath compels me to...”  
Wrenching free of her partner, Beverly shouted, “I don’t care about your fucking oath! We never married, we didn’t need to, so we never proclaimed our promises, our vows to anyone but to each other! What about those vows, Jean-Luc? Do they mean nothing? Are you saying your oath to Starfleet is more important than your vows spoken to me?”  
His head bowed, Jean-Luc’s voice was low and rough with emotion. “You know that’s not true!”  
“Then why are you doing this? Aren’t David and I more important to you than any fucking oath you gave as a seventeen year old?”  
He looked up, his eyes showing his anger. “Do you not know me at all? Beverly, you know I love you...” He brought David even closer to him. “...and David more than my own life, but I’ve spent my life, at least my entire adult life living it with integrity, honour and honesty. Isn’t that the man you know and love?”  
“Yes! But...”  
He held up his free hand. “Then what would it make me if I chose to throw away all that I have been, all that I have striven to convey and inspire in others just to preserve my life? I would be a hypocrite! I cannot put forth personal reasons as motive for violating my oath. Beverly...” He let go of David and rose to take his partner’s hands. “The plain fact is I broke Ereban law and I must face the consequences of that. I don’t want to die! My God...” He momentarily lost the ability to speak. Several long seconds passed before he said brokenly, “I want nothing more than to live out the rest of my days with you and David, but fate has dictated otherwise.”  
“I can’t go on without you, Jean-Luc.” Beverly whispered, tears streaming down her face.  
“You must, my love. David needs you and you need him.” He led her back to the bench. “After I’m...afterwards, leave Starfleet, Beverly...I want you to...”  
She frowned, confused. “Leave Starfleet?”  
“Yes!” Jean-Luc said vehemently. “Beverly, my love, Starfleet, Command, the Federation Council...it’s not all that it seems. Things...things I can’t tell you about have been happening...are still happening and once you get wind of it you’re not going to want to stay. In fact no one with any conscience or integrity is going to stay, believe me. Will, Deanna, Selar...I’ve no doubt they’ll resign. Walk away, Beverly, walk away and don’t look back!”  
“But where should we go? The chateau?”  
Jean-Luc frowned and rubbed his fingers over his lower lip, something he could now do again. “Perhaps Earth might not be the best place. Caldos maybe?”  
“What is it you can’t tell me, Jean-Luc? What the hell’s going on?”  
“I can’t tell you, Beverly, it would put you in danger. Once the...execution has taken place, retrieve my remains and get back to Earth ASAP. Have me cremated along with Charlotte and our little girl and inter us in my family’s plot at the chateau. Then you and David leave!”  
“Jean-Luc...” Beverly was barely able to even whisper. “I don’t think I can do it...”  
He squeezed her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “You must, Beverly, mon coeur. Think of it as my dying wish. You can’t refuse.”  
Her mouth slightly ajar and tears running freely down her face, all Beverly could do was nod. Jean-Luc let go of Beverly’s hands and turned to his son. He picked the unprotesting boy up and placed him on his lap. “David, my sweet son...I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this, I can only hope that with time you will come to terms with my decision. It is my hope, that with your mother’s help, you will learn more about me and in doing so realise that sometimes there are situations when the greater good must take precedence over personal concerns. In any event, I can only hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me for what you must feel is my betrayal. But for now I beseech you, take care of your Maman. In the coming days, weeks and months she is going to need you. Help her to move forwards, make a new life for yourselves and my dear son, live your life to the full! Be the good man I know you will grow to be!” Jean-Luc took his son’s face in his hands and kissed first his brow, then each cheek, then gently on his lips. He then turned to Beverly and embraced the quietly weeping woman.  
“Never forget how much I loved you, my sweet Beverly. Our time together has been the happiest of my life and if I can, I will watch over you...both of you. Our love is eternal, it will not cease with my death.”  
He released her then and stood. “You must go now and not return until you’re required. At that time, be brave and say nothing. All you need to know is that my last thoughts will be of you both. I love you.”  
Mutely, Beverly stood and took David’s hand. They left in a daze, shocked and already grief-stricken.

Administer Cerran smiled down at Selar, offering the Vulcan a seat at her desk. Selar declined with a respectful bow. “I will not take much of your time, Administrator. I am here to state officially that Captain Picard has recovered from the nematode infestation.”  
The large tan woman’s face fell. “Oh. I see. Well, thank you, Doctor Selar, I will inform the relevant authorities.”  
“May I enquire,” said Selar. “When will the trial begin?”  
“Well now that patient...sorry, Captain Picard, has been deemed fit and well, probably as soon as tomorrow.”  
Bowing her head, Selar turned to leave but faltered ever-so-slightly as Cerran muttered, “I’ll have to collect the biological samples from him. I take it his seed with survive in stasis?”  
“Yes.” Selar answered flatly.  
“Good. It would be a pity if our...efforts to afford him this...privilege failed because of insufficient technology.”  
Selar left without acknowledging the remark.

 

The message that summoned Jeran to the ‘meeting’ had been so subtly embedded in her usual comm. traffic she’d only just found it. She had been instructed to come alone, but she had told Murr too much already, she knew he’d been compromised so, feeling if she was to be eliminated, at least they would die together, Murr had insisted on accompanying her.  
The home was on the outskirts of the city, in one of the new ‘satellite’ suburbs that were springing up to accommodate the sudden upsurge in the Ereban population. During their drive through this new area, Jeran counted fifteen newly opened pleasure centres. And they were large complexes, easily able to service many groups at once. Her unease grew as they entered a sparsely populated area and drew up outside a stylish and obviously new home. It was dark, the street lighting not yet installed. No one saw the group of five enter.  
The window coverings had been drawn and the lighting was soft. The interior of the house was unfurnished with the exception of a large, long conference-type table. Jeran came to a halt as Absum caught her eye and sent a frightened smile. Sitting next to the doctor was a male she had only seen once and then as a holoimage. It was Absum’s bond mate, Gerron. The four, Absum, Gerron, Jeran and Murr nodded to each other as the advocate and her mate took their seats. The others, including the three who had arrived in the same ground vehicle as Jeran and Murr exchanged quiet greetings, but it was soon obvious the male at the head of the table was the leader.  
He focused his attention on the four and offered a tight smile.  
“You will not be told our names, it is not necessary for you to know and in the long run, it may save your lives if you remain ignorant of some information.”  
With typical advocate chutzpah, Jeran swallowed her fear to ask boldly, “What are we doing here? Who are you?”  
The male’s smile grew, but his pale gold eyes were cold. “As to who we are, you know that already, Advocate. We are patriots and by extension, so are you. And that is why you’re here.”  
Absum shook her head, her face creased in a frown. “That doesn’t answer the question.”  
The male sighed. “You...” he gestured to all four, but his eyes flicked between Jeran and Absum, “...have been asking questions...digging in places you really shouldn’t have and generally sticking your noses where they don’t belong. Now that in itself isn’t too bad, in fact we commend you, if more true Ereban started to ask the questions they should, perhaps what we plan wouldn’t be so very necessary.”  
“And just what is it your plan?” Jeran said belligerently. The male’s smile became indulgent.  
“This is not a courtroom, Advocate. You cannot cross examine me.” His eyes lost some of their coldness and he sat back, taking a piece of dried fruit from a pocket of his sarong and tearing off a bite. He chewed thoughtfully before he spoke again.  
“Doctor Absum. The body you dissected. You told one of our operatives that in your opinion it...he...was capable of breeding with true Ereban.”  
The doctor frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean by ‘true’ Ereban.”  
Giving Absum a look of tired boredom, the male sighed. “You know exactly what I mean, doctor. Don’t be so disingenuous.”  
Flushing and quelling the urge to bite back with a sarcastic reply, Absum softly cleared her throat and said mildly, “You are referring to lurin.”  
“Yes!” the male sat forward, his eyes piercing. “You know full well that within a little as the next two generations, lurin with be by far the dominant example of the Ereban species. You and your ilk, doctor, will die out!”  
“Then I can only surmise that you don’t consider me or my bond mate to be Ereban.” Absum did her best to keep her anger and deep offence at bay.  
“Oh, quite the contrary, doctor. There is absolutely no doubt you’re both Ereban, but...how should I put it? A soon to be outmoded model?”  
Absum and Gerron shared a tender look and the mate gave a surreptitious nod. Emboldened, Absum said quietly, “One doesn’t have to be lurin to have changed.”  
His eyes narrowing, the male said softly, “What is that supposed to mean?”  
Again the bonded pair shared a long look. “We discovered some time ago that we could lie without creating a brood and we found intense pleasure in the process.”  
Waving his hand dismissively, the male said derisively, “Then you are lurin...lurin in denial!”  
“No.” Absum said quietly and with great dignity. “You forget I am a doctor. We are not lurin. When we found we possessed this...ability, my first reaction was to examine both of us. Yes, we have developed pleasure organs where you would expect to find them in male and female lurin, but we no longer produce cell or seed. And these changes are recent; at least they have occurred within the last five years. We have been covertly ‘monitoring’ our offspring to see if they’ve begun to exhibit the same changes. As you’d imagine, they are very reluctant to speak of things so personal, but being in the medical community, they have a vested interest in their society. Of the thirty-eight children we have produced every single one is beginning to change. The eldest have completed the change, the youngest are just now showing the beginnings. Whatever it is that’s producing more and more lurin is affecting we...outmoded models. In effect it seems as a trade off because we can no longer breed, we can now indulge in the reproductive act with intense pleasure.”  
There were dark murmurings around the table until the male slapped his hand down hard, the loud crack bringing silence. “The duplicity!”  
“Who is being duplicitous?” Jeran almost shouted. “When are you going to tell us what’s going on?”  
“Our own government is in collusion with the Federation and our unhappy neighbours. It’s been going on for more than a century. Ereban was earmarked as a potential ally a very long time ago, but with the Federation’s troubles with the Dominion War, then the Borg incursion, things were brought forward. But still, they had the luxury of time. Or so they thought. That was until our neighbours almost annihilated themselves in their damned war. That set in motion a little plan of theirs involving seeding our atmosphere with a new genetic message. Over the last four generations we have begun a false, vastly accelerated genetic evolution.”  
“But why?” said a clearly confused Absum. “What possible motive would they have?”  
“How does a new species on a lovely clean, mostly underpopulated planet, rich in minerals and resources sound?”  
“By the All Seeing One...you mean Ereban!”  
“Indeed I do! And just to keep their foot in the door...and our neighbours on the right side, the Federation has helped them! In order to keep them out of the Typhon Pact, the Federation was willing to get into bed with their scientists...offer assistance...in order to manufacture not only a willing ally, but a species of powerful, prolifically breeding males and females with which to bolster their thinning ranks!  
“War with the Typhon Pact is inevitable and the Federation had always thought our neighbours would side with the Pact, but the carrot dangled by the Federation was enough to sway our neighbours. In return for saving what little remains of their now joined species, they get Ereban! And that means they get us!”  
Jeran shook her head. “And not a drop of blood spilt! They’ll do it with a stroke of a pen. By the time our people work out what’s happening, it’ll be too late.”  
Absum sat forward, asking urgently “Is there any way we can identify the aliens? Stop them from breeding with us?”  
The male laughed coldly. “Even if there was a way to identify them, do you think lurin would refuse? Why do you think lurin were developed in the first place? It is imperative for them to lie! Male and female...they don’t care with whom.”  
Seeing the outraged looks on Jeran and Murr, the male held up his hand. “I apologise. I should have clarified. Non-bonded lurin will lie as often as they can and with whomever they can find. I didn’t mean to imply bonded lurin were not faithful to each other.”  
Mollified, Jeran sat back and rubbed her brow. “All right, so what is your plan?”  
“This entire plot was uncovered seven generations ago, but back then, all we knew for certain was that we carried within us human DNA. We didn’t know how it got there, but as it seemed to be doing no harm, the discovery was quietly buried. Years...generations passed and things began to change. Then three generations ago, the first lurin appeared. Those of us who knew began to dig. It took a further two generations, but the whole picture began to emerge, but we were powerless to do anything about it! As long as we Ereban relied on our familial ties for everything, we were never going to be able to defend ourselves, either militaristically or scientifically. So a decision was made...a very risky one. We knew of the Federation’s involvement but our then government thought if we aligned ourselves with the very people who were so hell-bent on taking us anyway, perhaps we might be able to effect a double-cross. Use our new allies to protect us from our nefarious neighbours.  
“Well on the face of it, that seemed to be a reasonably sound idea. But the government had not considered the populations’ rejection. It took until the current generation before the citizenry finally conceded. And so a formal petition was made to join the Federation.”  
The people sat in stunned silence. The male said almost off-handedly, “You know, Doctor, those changes you described? I am no scientist, but I would wager it’s happening simply because you carry within you DNA of four species and they’ve each begun to wish to assert dominance.”  
“That is absurd!” Absum blurted. “That kind of DNA selection; that being which DNA has dominance occurs at fertilisation, not in grown, mature adults.”  
“Really?” said the male sarcastically. “Then explain to me the occurrence of sexually deviant behaviour in otherwise normal Ereban adults? People who had up until they changed, had been absolutely normal? And your changes, Doctor. Can you explain them?”  
Jeran waved her hand. “This is irrelevant! Again I ask, what is your plan?”  
“We have put in place people who have influence. When the time comes, and I stress it won’t be in our lifetime, but sooner rather than later, going by the latest statistics, when the ‘invasion’ begins, we will be ready. That double-cross I mentioned. It’s not exclusively aimed at our neighbours, but at the Federation as well. If they want is so badly, they’re going to have to take us...and we’ll resist with the very weapons and ships they themselves will supply. We will of course up until then be the perfect lap dogs! But by the time everything happens there will be many, many Ereban. More, we think, than the Federation realises.”  
“And what of the human, Picard? What has he to do with all this?” Jeran was partly curious and partly dreading the answer  
The male sighed and actually looked sad. “It is regretful. Our government, again in collusion with an entity within the Federation Council sent Picard as a sacrificial lamb...a lamb to be slaughtered. They knew a man like Picard, possessed with integrity and honour would at least try to do what he’d been sent to do, that is assess Ereban for admission into the Federation and of course he quickly found we were nowhere near suitable as candidates. But he was also supposed to meet with what he’d been told were a clandestine group who wished to elicit Federation assistance with our little ‘evolution’ problem. He was set up from the very beginning. Even his selection as a man with a family but who had not bonded was taken into account. And as for the three deviants who raped, beat and murdered his family? Hand-picked by our government.”  
Suddenly on her feet, Jeran slammed her fist down on the tabletop. “What about Article 225.1? I can use it to...”  
“NO!” the male calmed himself and motioned for Jeran to regain her seat. “No, Advocate, you can’t use it. It will make no difference anyway. The Presider is in the pocket of the Chief Seer. Picard’s trial is nothing but a sham. He was doomed even before his ship left orbit to make the journey to Ereban. If the situation with the deviants had failed, something else would’ve been made available, something that would bring about his execution and if all else failed, he would’ve been quietly....eliminated.”  
“Then why bother with a trial and execution at all? Jeran was disgusted and confused.  
“Because,” the male said patiently, “the government wants the people to see how seriously the Federation is taking our petition. If they’re willing to sit idly by and allow our law to run its course and do nothing to protect one of their most illustrious Captains, then surely they can be trusted?”  
Absum closed her eyes and shook her head. “And the people will feel justified in aligning themselves with an alien power.”  
“Exactly.”  
Jeran sighed, her broad shoulders slumping. “So Picard dies needlessly and in one, perhaps two generations, we will be plunged into war with the Federation.”  
“Yes. If we win, we win more than a war, Advocate. We win the right to be ourselves...whatever that eventually is.” The male stared intently. “And, Advocate. Picard’s death will not be needless. He serves a purpose. His death will not be forgotten, not by us or by those to come. He will be forever remembered for what the Federation once was and what we hope to be ourselves, one day.”

 

Administrator Cerran stood outside Jean-Luc’s cell, staring at the special container in her hand. It was the standard size for an Ereban male, but she knew it was going to be too large for her ‘patient’, but it was a specially engineered container, specifically designed for its job, so it wasn’t as if she had a choice. Yet somehow she felt this situation was different and it made her feel decidedly uncomfortable.  
She’d not had a lot to do with her ‘patient’ but from what little contact she’d had, she’d found him to be intelligent and inherently gentle. How he could’ve found the excessive violence in him to murder three adult Ereban males...she sighed and shook her head. “He was trying to protect his family...even though he wasn’t bonded.” She thought sadly.  
“Oh well, no time like the present.” She muttered. To the guard she nodded towards the cell door and instructed, “Open it.”  
Jean-Luc was sitting on the bench, staring at his hands which dangled between his thighs. Cerran had to clear her throat loudly to gain his attention.  
“Patient Picard, number 55839, as a gesture of good will, we, the staff here at the hospital are affording you a singular privilege. I am going to leave this...” she held up the container. “I will return in three of your hours to collect it.”  
Confused, Jean-Luc asked quietly, “What is it?”  
Flushing slightly, the administrator said curtly, “It is a seed collector.”  
“Pardon? A what?”  
Through gritted teeth, Cerran hissed, “A seed collector!”  
“Seed? What kind of seed?” Jean-Luc was growing more confused by the second. Throwing her hands up, Cerran spat it out.  
“You are to...stimulate yourself and produce three...samples of your seed!”  
Realisation made Jean-Luc gape. “Why?” he asked, aghast.  
“Because that is what we wish you to do!”  
“And if I refuse?”  
Shock, anger and outrage made the usually pleasant face of the administrator darken. “If you refuse, we will take the samples by force and believe me, it is NOT a pleasant or comfortable procedure. Now I am offering you the opportunity to do it in privacy at your own pace and as long as you fulfil your obligation within the allotted time, we will leave you alone. But hear me 55839. Failure to comply will not be tolerated!”  
She shoved the largish sealed container at Jean-Luc and he took it, his expression one of distaste.  
“You are going to comply?” Cerran said with a trace of threat.  
“Yes.” Agreed Jean-Luc softly.  
“Then I will be back in three hours!”  
The door clanged shut leaving an embarrassed and bewildered Jean-Luc still sitting, only now he was staring at the container, wondering just how he was going to be able to ‘produce the goods’.

 

It was typical of Geordi to keep working well after his shift had ended. He’d dismissed the young ensign, preferring to study the enigma on his own. Engineering, like all the other crucial departments of the ship was staffed at all times, but the beta shift...the night shift as some liked to call it...was slightly smaller than the ‘day’ shift, so it was a more subdued environment that afforded Geordi more time to devote to the problem.  
It was just on oh four hundred when his head snapped up and he pushed his wheeled chair back from the console in an involuntary gesture. He’d slapped his comm. badge before he even knew he’d done it.  
“LaForge to Riker!”  
Will had been sleeping so restlessly that Deanna had taken to sleeping on the sofa, but both occupants of Will’s quarters woke immediately to the urgency of Geordi’s voice.  
“Riker here. What is it, Geordi?”  
“Sir, I’ve found something I think you should see. Right now, Commander.”  
“Acknowledged! I take it you’re in engineering?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Right, I’ll be there shortly. Riker out.”  
Deanna waited in silence as Will quickly dressed. He was striding to the doors when he hesitated and turned to his lover. She held up her hand and offered a small smile.  
“Go. I’ll see you later.”  
He gave a curt nod and was gone.  
Geordi had brought up a large image of the area of space on their port side on the main screen in engineering. Will found him peering at one section he’d magnified. Nodding his acknowledgment of Will’s arrival, Geordi used the knuckle of his right index finger to lightly tap the highlighted area.  
“What is it?” Will asked brusquely.  
“A ship, no doubt about, sir. They’re using a very sophisticated cloaking device, in fact I’ve never seen anything like it, but whatever it is, they can’t prevent the subspace interphase pocket. It’s bulging just like we thought.”  
“Can you tell what kind of ship? Romulan...Klingon maybe?”  
Shaking his head, Geordi grimaced. “I doubt it’s either, sir. I don’t even think it’s any of the Typhon Pact’s either.”  
“Why?”  
“Because of its size. I can’t be completely accurate, but the readings I’m getting seem to suggest the ship’s about a ‘Defiant’ size. Now if the Typhon Pact had sent a spy ship, surely it would be something much more discreet, smaller and much harder to detect??”  
‘Yeah, maybe, but a Defiant class can pack quite a punch, Geordi.”  
“If it’s a Defiant class, Commander. I didn’t say it was, just that whatever’s out there is about the same size, that’s all.”  
Will thought for only a few seconds before saying curtly, “Route that...” he jabbed his finger at the image on the screen. “...to the bridge. You’re with me, Mr. LaForge.”  
Within scant minutes both men exited the lift and strode on to the command centre of the ship. The night shift immediately shoved aside their boredom and listlessness and snapped into ready mode.  
“Computer,” intoned Will. “I want a full, high-intensity sensor sweep and scan of these coordinates.”  
He nodded to Geordi who inputted the information. “Activate forward viewscreen and display.”  
Of course there was nothing to see but the edge of the planet below and above...empty space.  
“I don’t buy it. Tactical,” said Will sharply. “There’s a ship sitting cloaked at those coordinates. I want you to send a standard hail, but direct it specifically at those coordinates. I want that ship to know not only do we know it’s there, but that we know exactly where.”  
“Aye, Commander.”  
Seconds of tense silence was followed by a quiet, “No response, sir.”  
Will was just about to curse when Geordi shouted, “Whoa!”  
Spinning around, Will barked, “What is it?”  
“Look, I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure that ship just armed itself and by the sharp jump in the EM band, I’d say they also raised some very heavy-duty shields.”  
“Not very friendly then.” Remarked Will drolly. “Okay, let’s reciprocate. Red alert! Shields up to full intensity and bring all weapons online!” He turned back to the viewscreen and said with some satisfaction, “And tactical, lock onto the target.”  
“Yes, sir!”  
On the cloaked ship the captain was swearing with vulgarity his crew had rarely ever heard. Once his expletive ridden tirade, in several languages had ended, he glared at the image of the Enterprise and hissed, “That fucker Riker! Who the hell does he think he is?”  
“Shall we deploy the thaleron emitter?”  
“No you idiot!”  
“But it’ll vaporise the Enterprise. Problem solved.”  
“Listen to me shit-for-brains. If we destroy the fucking flagship, just how do you think we’re going to explain it? Hmm? If we blame the Typhon Pact it’ll begin the war too soon! And besides, the fucking fallout from the thaleron radiation would annihilate everything on the fucking planet! For Christ’s sake, think before you open your stupid fucking mouth!”  
No one dared speak while the captain ground his teeth. Eventually he threw his hands up and said, “Right! We bug out! Take us out of the Enterprise’s sensor range and keep watching. In the meantime, connect me with the section. Things have just taken a u-turn.”  
The very tense atmosphere on the Enterprise’s bridge lessened a little when Geordi reported, “Commander? The SIP has just vanished. My guess is our mystery ship has left.”  
Will let out a long breath and sat down. “Okay, but I want continuous sensor sweeps and scans right to the very limit of our capacity. I don’t want any more surprises.”  
“There was a quiet chorus of, “Yes, sir.”  
There was no point in returning to his quarters, his shift was due to start in an hour or two anyway. Will glared balefully at the planet, a very uncharacteristic sneer firmly in place.

 

Jeran had only been asleep three hours when an intra net call woke her. She answered quickly, hoping to not disturb the sleeping Murr, but he rolled over, grumbling, “Who would call at this hour? Don’t they know it’s our day off?”  
Giving him a quiet hush, she answered. “Advocate Jeran.”  
“This is Presider Nellar. A situation is developing at the central justice complex. Your attendance is required immediately.”  
“I’m on my way, Presider.”  
“Quickly, Jeran. Things are rapidly spiralling out of control. Enter by an underground route. Do not, I repeat, do not try to enter through the main entry or the peripheral entryways.”  
“I understand, Presider.”  
The line went dead and Jeran dressed with haste. Murr said with growing alarm, “Is there anything I can do?”  
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Until I know what’s going on, it’s best if you stay here. I’ll contact you if I can.”  
She was almost out of the bedroom when Murr’s soft, deep voice stopped her in her tracks. “I have never told you, Jeran, but I have always felt it. I love you.”  
She turned to face him, her eyes misting with tears. “And I have always loved you, Murr. If I never see you again, I want you to know you have made me happy beyond measure.”  
She didn’t give him the opportunity to respond. All he heard was the front door closing softly.  
The main city of Ereban was impressive in its own way, mostly because of its size, but that was mostly to accommodate the huge proportions of its citizens, but what the ordinary people didn’t know was that beneath their city was a intricate series of tunnels and complexes, a city beneath a city. The entrances to the access tunnels were very cleverly disguised and, as the average Ereban was both trusting and a little naive, they never saw what was in fact, right under their own noses.  
Heeding the presider’s warning, Jeran drove away from her home in the opposite direction to the central justice complex. She parked her ground vehicle at a public transport hub and entered a nondescript office. There, making sure she was unobserved, opened a concealed pad and inputted her secret code. The well hidden door opened and she entered a lift which descended so quickly her ears popped.  
As soon as the lift doors opened she exited and began a ground-eating lope. The distance was at least two kilometres but she covered it easily. Another pad, this one openly displayed accepted her code and she found herself in the sub basement of the central justice complex. A guard stepped in front of her and she brandished her wrist so her sub dermal chip could be read. Having verified her identity, the guard bowed and said respectfully, “You are expected, Advocate. Please follow me.”  
As they rose in a lift Jeran activated the screen that connected to the security systems surrounding the complex. What she saw made her gape. “What are all those people doing here? By the All Seeing One...are they rioting?”  
Her questions went unanswered as the lift stopped and the doors opened. Greeting her was the Chief Presider. Again, Jeran gaped, but quickly recovered. “Oh, I beg your indulgence, Chief Presider. I was expecting Presider Nellar.”  
The huge male gave a grim look. “This has gone beyond her purview. I am taking over this case.”  
“And which case is that, sir?”  
“Come with me, Advocate.”  
They walked a short distance to an area Jeran knew well. The door they now faced would lead to a cell where the condemned awaited their execution.  
“In there, Advocate, you will find your ‘client’ the human, Picard. Due to the appalling social unrest the news of his impending trail, which was to be held this morning is causing it has been decided to forego the trial completely and proceed with the execution.  
Scrambling to regain her wits, Jeran blurted, “I was not informed the trial date had even been set!”  
The Chief Presider sighed. “Things have moved quickly, Advocate and as the decision has been made for a summary execution, it was not necessary to inform you. But protocol demands you accompany your client to his execution. That is why you are here now. Kindly perform your duties with respect and decorum as befitting your station.”  
“And what of his family? They should be here.”  
“They have been summoned, Advocate. While we await their arrival, I suggest you...explain matters to your client.”  
Jeran could only watch in stunned silence as the chief presider turned and walked away.

 

Beverly was feeling her mind beginning to rapidly unravel. Since receiving the urgent message to beam down to the central justice complex, she was finding it harder and harder to do even the simplest of things. David had helped her to dress and now he was brushing her hair. Without his steadying influence, Beverly would’ve lost her tenuous grip of her sanity completely.  
They eventually beamed down and were immediately taken into a cold, startlingly clean, white room. They were directed to set of tiered seats and told to sit and wait. Beverly stared uncomprehendingly, her mind blank, at the odd apparatus situated in the exact centre of the room. Nothing was making any sense. David clung to his mother’s hand, doing his best not to wet his pants.

Jeran stood outside the cell she knew contained the condemned man. She schooled her features into a profession milieu and nodded to the guard, giving him the tacit order to open the door, but as soon as she set eyes on Jean-Luc her expression crumpled into sorrow and regret.  
Jean-Luc was no fool. He suspected what was about to happen, but he asked anyway. “What is going on?”  
Summoning a steady voice, Jeran said quietly, “News of your trial, which was scheduled for this morning had got out. At present the central justice complex is surrounded on all sides by hundreds...perhaps thousands of people, some protesting, some encouraging, but all in conflict. Rioting has broken out and our security forces cannot control the growing unrest. Because your guilt was never in doubt, to restore order, it has been decided that you will undergo summary execution.”  
To his credit, Jean-Luc showed no outward emotion. His voice was strong, but quiet as he asked, “When?”  
“Now.”  
“I see. Very well, let’s get this over with, shall we?”  
Admiring his dignity and composure, Jeran struggled to keep her emotions under control. She nodded and said softly, “You must disrobe, Captain. One cannot enter the afterlife clothed. You entered your existence naked and so you shall leave it the same.”  
With calm efficiency, Jean-Luc stripped. Once he was naked, Jeran knocked on the door. Two huge guards stepped into the large room, each one taking one of Jean-Luc’s elbows. The captain stood straight and said quietly, “That is not necessary. I can assure you I require no assistance, nor will I offer any resistance.”  
Jeran nodded to the guards who released Jean-Luc and stood back. Together, Jeran leading, they walked single file down a corridor and into the execution room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Beverly and David, but refused to look at them. Instead he concentrated on the apparatus in the middle of the room. It was a large tubular metal frame, open at one end. He noted a padded low stool had been placed within the device and what appeared to be hastily made hand holds had been situated closer than the permanent ones on what he assumed were arms rests.  
There were two other Ereban in the room, apart from Jeran and the two guards. One wore robes of dark purple and edged in gold. The other wore nothing but a loin cloth. In his hand was a slight curved brightly gleaming grey blade.  
Jeran said quietly, “Go and stand at the open end of the frame. When ordered to take your position, you are to kneel on the stool, lay your arms on the rests and grip the handles. Because your blood must be clean, we cannot offer you anything in the way of a chemical ant-anxiety medication, but should you wish it, you can be restrained and an eye cover applied.”  
“Thank you, but none of that will be necessary.” Jean-Luc’s voice was still strong and calm.  
Jeran was about to step back and take her place, but she couldn’t help but say sotto voce, “I am deeply sorry, Captain Picard. I regret what has happened to you...what is about to happen to you.”  
Somehow Jean-Luc found a smile. “Thank you.” He said softly.  
Jeran took her place and the purple-robed figure came to stand at the front of the frame.  
“Patient 55839, you have been pronounced guilty of your crimes. Such was the barbarity of your crimes and the overwhelming evidence in your case, it has been decided to forgo the procedure of a trial and go directly to the punishment phase. In your case, that means execution. As is customary, you are to be given the opportunity to make a last statement. Do you wish to do so?”  
“Yes.” Said Jean-Luc quietly. “Although I do not regret my actions in defence of my family, I do regret the situation that led to my actions. It is my hope my death will bring an end to the unrest among the people of Ereban and it is my fervent hope that your people prosper in the future.”  
The purple-robed male glowered. “By refusing to repent you will suffer in the afterlife, 55839. May the All Seeing One have mercy upon you.”  
The robed male took three measured steps back and nodded to the male with the blade. He came to stand behind Jean-Luc and said quietly, “Take your position.”  
Jean-Luc did as requested, finding the new hand-holds a little too far away to comfortably reach, but he sighed to himself. It made little difference. He reached forward and found a firm grip.  
A large hand wrapped around his brow, gently easing his head back. A collector was fastened to the base of his neck, presumably to catch his blood. He kept his eyes open and concentrated, bringing into his mind images of all his family. Beverly, David, Monique and the little girl he would never get to know. He just saw the large hand come across his exposed neck and he felt the slightest of pressure, a cold sensation and then the warmth of his blood as it ran freely down the side of his neck. There was no pain.  
The odd flash of light momentarily confused him. “Is that it?” he wondered. “Am I dead?”  
The voice both shocked and enraged him.  
“I wouldn’t move so much as a muscle, mon capitaine. Your carotid artery has been cut, one millimetre more and phft! You’ll be gone.”  
Making sure he kept absolutely still, Jean-Luc managed to say one word. “Q!”  
Suddenly he wasn’t in the apparatus any more. He was standing naked and bleeding in front of his old nemesis, who for once was dressed in something other than a Starfleet uniform. Q saw Jean-Luc look him up and down and grinned. “I thought, seeing as I was saving you...again...I’d dispense with formality and go casual.”  
Blood was now pooling around Jean-Luc’s left foot. Q looked down and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, Jean-Luc. Put some pressure on the wound or we’ll run out of time.”  
Annoyed, Jean-Luc nonetheless did as Q suggested. He then looked around the room only to see everything frozen. When he saw the vacant look in Beverly’s eyes and how David was gripping her around her waist while he had buried his face in her side almost made him weep. “No...oh, no...Beverly...”  
“Yep.” Said Q. “Poor old Red. Lost the plot completely, I’m afraid.”  
Rage surged up in Jean-Luc and he rounded on the omnipotent being. “Is this your idea of some kind of sick joke? Are you so debauched that you have to put my family through your perverted scenarios?”  
Q’s face lost all his natural capriciousness. “Oh no, Jean-Luc. This is no joke, far from it. This is deadly serious, I promise you.”  
“Then why? Why have you interfered?” Jean-Luc was completely unconvinced; too many times the butt of Q’s cruelty.  
Waving his arm in a wide arc, Q said with uncharacteristic exasperation. “Because this timeline is wrong!”  
“What do you mean wrong? Timelines are what they are! And you know you can’t alter them!”  
“Don’t you dare to presume to tell me what I can or cannot do, Picard! I know more about time and the universe than your puny simian brain could even hope to comprehend and I’m telling you this timeline is wrong! It was never meant to be this way!”  
Struggling to calm himself, Jean-Luc said carefully, “All right. Can you explain why you say this timeline is...wrong?”  
Q seemed to appreciate Jean-Luc’s efforts to be civil and calm. Sneering distastefully at the still flowing blood from Jean-Luc’s neck wound, Q waved his hand and Jean-Luc found his injury repaired and the blood gone. He was, however, still naked. He was about to thank Q when the entity wagged a finger and shook his head. “No, Jean-Luc, don’t thank me. If you refuse to do what is right, I’ll put you back in that...thing...and let the execution go ahead.”  
“And what is right, Q? What is it I’m supposed to do?”  
“Go back.”  
“To where?”  
“To a time, not too far back, but far enough to stop what’s happening here on Ereban...and other places.”  
Jean-Luc sighed and rubbed his bald head. “Q.” He said patiently. “You know I can’t interfere with the timeline. We’ve had this discussion before.”  
“Yes. But what if I told you that a decision taken by a small fledgling group within the Federation Council over a century ago was fundamentally wrong and led to what we have now...and will lead to a catastrophic event in the very near future?”  
“Q...”  
Placing a hand on Jean-Luc’s bare shoulder, Q bent slightly to look deeply into the captain’s eyes. “Jean-Luc you and I both know that the timeline is in a constant state of flux. It is decided every millisecond, its passage directed by the very choices each and every person makes at any given time. Now this decision I mentioned, the one made over a century ago. It has given rise to all that is wrong about the Federation now...and don’t tell me you’re unaware of what’s going on, I know you’re aware of at least some of it, but believe me, what you know is just the tip of the ice berg. It has to stop, Jean-Luc! It must be stopped! And you, mon captitaine are perfectly situated to do it.”  
“How, Q? How do I, a mere ship’s captain, stop something as entrenched and powerful as section 31? How do I ferret out those corrupt individuals in Starfleet, not to mention the Federation Council? I can’t do it on my own, Q! They have the power and the means to eliminate me without so much as raising a sweat!”  
“Like now?” Q’s tone was sardonic but he was deadly serious. “You know who’s behind all this, Jean-Luc.” He swept his arm wide. “You’re no fool. A romantic...a martyr perhaps, but no fool.”  
The two beings looked at each other, one confused and scared, the other intent and committed.  
“You know the right people, Jean-Luc. All it would take is some judicious, very quiet dissemination of the truth. They know it anyway, they just need a catalyst. And that catalyst is you, Jean-Luc!”  
Still wavering, wanting to believe, wanting to put right what he knew was wrong but the thought of never interfering with the timeline was ingrained. It went against everything he’d been taught. Q saw his dilemma and said quietly. “All right. Time for a little trip into the future. Hang on to your hat, Jean-Luc, it aint going to be pretty.” Just as he raised his hand he said with a wicked grin, “Oh...no hat! Sorry!”

 

The next thing Jean-Luc saw was the interior of sickbay on the Enterprise. Beverly was lying on a biobed; obviously deeply unconscious, her eyes taped shut, an intravenous line attached to the crook of her right elbow.  
“Beverly...” Jean-Luc whispered; his distress obvious. Q leaned over and said in a normal speaking voice, “No need to whisper, Jean-Luc. No one can see or hear us.”  
“What has happened to her?”  
Q snorted. “I’ve already told you! She’s lost the plot...checked out...dissociated I believe is the medical term.”  
“Will she be all right?” Jean-Luc was on the verge of tears. Q put an arm around his shoulders. “All right is a relative term, Jean-Luc. Wait and see, you be the judge. Now...your son, David. Let’s drop in on him, shall we?”  
Another disorienting slip had them standing in the ship’s morgue. Three of the chilled alcoves were open. On one lay Jean-Luc’s body. Beside him, next in line was Monique’s remains and finally, resting in a satin-lined metal box was the tiny body of the unborn girl. All that was distressing enough but standing at his father’s side was David. The dry, salty tracks of his recent tears were left untouched on his face as the boy stared down at the body. He stood so still, Jean-Luc had to study him intently to see he was actually breathing. It took a moment to realise David was whispering. Jean-Luc stepped closer to hear.  
“Why, papa, why did you leave us? Maman has gone too and I’m all alone. I don’t know what to do. You asked me to help, to help maman, but I can’t...she has gone away and papa...who will help me?”  
Reaching for him and letting out a sob as his hands passed right through the boy, Jean-Luc said brokenly, “Oh, David, David my sweet son...”  
The tableau shifted again. They were in a small house and Deanna was in the kitchen. The furnishings were shabby and Deanna’s clothing was of poor quality. Q said conversationally, “This afternoon, David celebrated his fourteenth birthday. He’s playing with one of his ’gifts’ now and in about an hour, when Riker comes home from his job at the factory, everyone will take the public land vehicle to visit old Red. Want to see your teenage son?”  
Jean-Luc nodded mutely and Q led him through the small ‘home’ and walked straight through David’s bedroom door. There, lying on a narrow bed was David, passionately kissing another boy of similar age while they indulged in mutual masturbation. Jean-Luc immediately turned and left the room. Q raised one eyebrow and said snidely, “Disappointed your only surviving child is a homosexual?”  
“No, Q.” Said Jean-Luc sadly. “I just wanted to give him...and his friend their privacy.”  
“Well how evolved you are, Jean-Luc! But it’s going to make perpetuating the old Picard line a bit tricky. The new world government frowns on wasting valuable resources on personal matters like assisted reproduction. Takes from the war effort don’t you know.”  
“What war? And why are Will, Deanna and David living in such...”  
“Squalid surrounds?” Finished Q. “I told you, Jean-Luc. This timeline is wrong! The war is being fought on five fronts. The ‘Federation’ though it’s not even remotely what you would remember it as being, is engaged in fighting the Typhon Pact, which grows stronger every day, the Ereban, who have enlisted the help of their former enemies, the Andorians, who are in a struggle with everyone for independence, the Tellarites, now there’s a greedy bunch and finally...the Vulcans!”  
“The Vulcans?” said an incredulous s Jean-Luc. “I can’t believe that! Vulcan is one of the founding worlds of the Federation.”  
Holding up one finger, Q’s eyebrows rose.  
“Ah...but that would be the Federation you remember. Let’s get all this straight. Within hours of your execution your newly repaired body...and its...samples...was shipped back to the Enterprise and Riker high-tailed it back to Earth. He had quite a bee in his bonnet. Once back home a bun-fight ensued culminating with Riker, Troi, Selar, LaForge...Gods, Jean-Luc over 80% of your old crew resigned.”  
“But...why?” said a bewildered Jean-Luc. “I know things were bad in the Federation...but...”  
“It wasn’t just your crew, Jean-Luc. Riker had let the cat out of its proverbial bag. He had enough evidence to show the Federation had been dabbling in things not quite Kosher. A lot of noses were put out of joint, Jean-Luc...too many for section 31 to...disappear. But word was spreading fast. Earth’s population complained bitterly, but guess what happened? There was a coup in the Council. Bacco out....and guess who comes in as Federation President? Duras. Toral Duras.”  
“NO!” shouted an outraged captain. “That entire family is nothing but....”  
“Now, now, Jean-Luc, you’re dead, remember. No need to get all upset. So anyway, President Duras brings in wholesale changes, Earth’s population becomes slaves by proxy. Everything is geared for war production. Food is rationed, energy conserved. The ‘new’ Federation embarks on a mission of conquer and pillage. World after world are enslaved and stripped bare to keep the wheels of the great war machine turning. So Riker, Troi, Red and David are shunted about from place to place, not trusted because of their past association with the former Starfleet and they fall on hard times. Troi ekes out a meagre wage as a machinist and Riker works in a foundry. David, who had begun to show talent in weapons design has been fast tracked into an accelerated learning course. I suppose he’s the only real bright spot.”  
“And Beverly? What happened to my Beverly?”  
“Old Red...dear Beverly, remained in a catatonic state for about 18 months. She was, of course, placed in a ‘care facility’ but really it was just an institution by another name. She came out of her catatonia, but she was never the same. The doctors refer to it as an ‘altered state’. As far as Beverly’s concerned, you’re still Captain of the Enterprise, David is just shy of his 7th birthday, Monique is soon to begin kindergarten and you and your dear partner have not yet chosen a name, boy or girl, for her 4 month gone unborn child.”  
“Where is she? Please Q, I must see her!”  
Q shrugged and rolled his eyes. “You really are a glutton for punishment, Jean-Luc...but all right.”  
Again they shifted and Jean-Luc gasped at the seedy room. The linens on the bed were stained and so were the night clothes Beverly wore. She was out of the bed, sitting in a chair that had a badly repaired leg, making it wobble if she moved. The sunlight that found its way through the grime on the window was watery, the atmosphere outside polluted with industrial waste.  
Just as Jean-Luc was moving closer to his beloved partner, the room’s door opened and David came in. Deanna did too, but she stayed back, unobtrusively waiting near the door. David went to his mother and knelt, kissing her cheek.  
“Hello, maman. How are you today?”  
Beverly’s face turned away from the window and Jean-Luc couldn’t contain a sob. Her once lustrous red hair was mostly grey...dry and brittle. Her blue eyes were dull and sunken into her gaunt face. When she smiled at David he saw her teeth were rotten and some were missing altogether.  
“David, my young son.” She said in a wavering voice. She lifted a trembling, bony hand and ran it through his light brown hair. “How was school?”  
“Good, maman.”  
“And are you helping papa with Monique?” Her free hand went to her lower belly. “Once the baby’s born we’re all going to have to pitch in, you know.”  
“Yes, maman, I know.”  
“Such a good boy...my David.”  
Shuffling a little closer, David said very quietly, “Maman? Do you remember I told you last time I came, only a few days ago, that it looks like I’m going to be able to not only save some good money soon, but if I do well in my studies, I’ve been told I might go to the Sorbonne? If that happens I will be able to get you out of here and give you that surprise I’ve been telling you about.”  
“You’re making something for the baby in school? Oh, David, that’s lovely. So thoughtful. But you always were such a good boy.” She tapped the tip of his nose. “That’s when you’re not teasing Monique, of course.”  
If David felt any despair he didn’t show it. He rose and kissed his mother’s brow. “I’ll be back in a few days, maman. Stay well.”  
“I will, David...and tell your papa not to work too hard!”  
“Yes, maman.”  
As David and Deanna left the room, Q said, “She’ll tolerate Troi in the room, but not too close. Riker...she completely throws a wobbly fit. The medicos think she subconsciously blames Riker for not rescuing you, even though in her altered state she believes you’re still hale and hearty.”  
Quelling his heartache, Jean-Luc asked, “What was David talking about?”  
Q grinned and Jean-Luc had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to punch him full in the face.  
“Wait and see, Jean-Luc, wait and see.”

 

The next shift had them back in the run down hovel that served as David’s home. He was seated on a ratty, torn sofa, his arms around a sobbing Deanna. By the look of pain in his son’s eyes, Jean-Luc feared the worst. “Beverly!” he whispered, his gut wrenching. Only the tightly restraining hand on his arm prevented him from going to his son.  
“You can’t help, Jean-Luc, but for what it’s worth, it’s not Red. It’s Riker. He was...oh, what’s the old Earth term...” he snapped his fingers in triumph. “Mugged! Yes, that’s it, he was mugged. Street crime is in epidemic proportions as Earth’s population struggles to feed, clothe, house itself. Riker had just picked up the pittance he was paid and was assaulted as he made his way to the public transport station. Apparently he would’ve survived the beating he’d been given if he’d got to a hospital soon enough, but priority is given to military personnel. He’d been given one hell of a whack to the neck. Ruptured a major blood vessel. He bled out before anyone even bothered to report finding his body. So now, Troi is your son’s only legal guardian. Oh, I didn’t tell you about that, did I? When the Enterprise returned to Earth from Ereban and Red was you know...” he made circular motions around his left temple with his finger. “...she was declared unfit so Riker and Troi who, by the way had three little ankle biters of their own, but that’s another story...became David’s legal guardians. They only got him because of his age. Any older and the military would’ve gobbled him up and any younger and the state would’ve snaffled him for much the same reason. Get ‘em young and train ‘em hard’”  
“Will Riker...dead?” Jean-Luc was struggling to accept his long-time friend was gone.  
“Yep. Hard to believe, eh? Anyway, time to move on!”  
Jean-Luc almost staggered at the new location. The home was a vast improvement. It was larger, cleaner and was furnished tastefully. Deanna, who had aged badly was sitting in the living room, frowning deeply as David spoke. A young man, quite handsome and very black sat beside him. They were holding hands.  
“Aunt Dee, I would like your support not your opposition! I turned 18 yesterday; you’re no longer my legal guardian!”  
“But David...what you’re proposing...it’s...grotesque! I’ve said it often enough, so did your Uncle Will. You should’ve allowed us to cremate your loved ones as soon as we came back to Earth all those years ago. Keeping them...and the biological samples of your father’s in stasis is just...it’s a form of denial, David! Can’t you see that?”  
“What I see, Aunt Dee; is you living a comfortable life. You live in my home, you have nice clothes, you no longer have to work, there’s plenty of food in the cupboards...you’ve done quite well through me! Why can’t you support me now, when I need you most?!”  
“Need I point out that your exalted position in society is because you design such efficient weapons for our masters? How many people have died through your brilliance, David?”  
“Like my father, I am committed to the Federation, not any ‘masters!’. You’d do well to remember what happens to detractors, Aunt Dee.”  
“Are you threatening me, David?”  
“No, Aunt Dee. I’m simply reminding you of your obligations. Now Enrique and I are on our way to pick up maman’s harvested ova. The doctors have informed me they have ten healthy ova which have been brought to maturity. The sperm in papa’s semen is still viable and already the three male and one female have been selected. Once fertilisation occurs and is stable, maman’s remaining ovum will be fertilised with papa’s sperm at random, I don’t care what gender they produce. They’ll be kept in storage. Once all that is complete, Enrique and I will donate our genetic input and begin our family. We will, of course be using gender selection.” The two men gazed into each other’s eyes. “Two boys, two girls. One of the boys will carry the name Jean-Luc and one of the girls, Beverly.”  
“Your mother, both your parents would never have agreed with what you’re about to do David.”  
“My father was a great man, my mother a brilliant scientist and a damned fine doctor. I lost them, I lost my little sisters. Well, I can’t bring my parents back, but I can recreate my family. I’m going to have siblings and children of my own.”  
“And you’re going to take advantage of your position to do it!” Deanna shouted. “How many ordinary citizens, who yearn for a child but can’t get access to the technology you so easily bandy about would give everything they have for the chance to do what you’re about to do?”  
Looking suitably bored, David shrugged. “It’s really not my problem, Aunt Dee. I’ve been working towards this moment since I was fourteen! Would you deny me my chance at happiness?”  
“Where are my children, David?”  
At last he gave a look of pained embarrassment. “That was nothing to do with me, that was government policy! The babies were taken for their own good!”  
“And no doubt reared to become soldiers. Are any of them alive still, do you think, David? Will your siblings....your children be taken?”  
The young man abruptly rose, practically dragging his partner to his feet too.  
“I’ve heard enough! If you can’t reconcile yourself to what I’m going to do, then perhaps you might consider alternative living arrangements!” He stormed to the door, but hesitated. Half turning he said in a calmer tone, “I won’t throw you out onto the streets, Aunt Dee. Perhaps you might like to live at the chateau? Give it some thought.”  
The door closed quietly and Deanna sank into her chair. “Oh, Beverly, what has happened to your son?”  
Jean-Luc looked at Q and asked the same question. The omnipotent being shrugged. “He is a product of his society, Jean-Luc. You can’t blame him for taking advantage of his own talents. Come on, we’re going for a ride.”  
Before Jean-Luc could ask where, they found themselves in the back seat of David’s flitter. Only the elite could possess such a luxury.  
“Well,” said Enrique mildly. “That wasn’t so bad.”  
“Hmph!” snorted David. “So holier-than-thou! Still, I’m out from under her thumb now.”  
“Yeah. So, where to first?”  
“To the hospice, pick up the ova. Maman’s still sedated but the doc’s say she’s feeling no pain.”  
“How long’s she got?”  
“Dunno, a week? Maybe two. They didn’t expect her to last this long. Lucky for us she did. That damned blood disorder the Pact infected her with...Jesus! If our medics hadn’t figured out what was going on...”  
What was the final death toll from that, anyway?”  
“Oh, about eight million. Put a hell of a dent in the war effort. We had to bring in some spares from Bollius 9.”  
“Pity.”  
“Yeah. Anyway, once we have the ova it’s over to the repo lab, do the business and then we load everything into the flitter and head on over the wide Pacific to Hawaii.”  
Enrique offered a rakish grin, making David cup his genitals. “The repo lab has all your father’s samples?”  
“Yep. Everything’s ready. This time tomorrow our brood will be happily gestating and you and I will be happily fucking in a quiet cabin by the sea.”  
“Gods...you say the nicest things, David.”  
“Yeah, I know.”

 

Jean-Luc lowered his head and two tears squeezed out of his tightly closed eyes. “I’ve seen enough, Q.”  
“No, Jean-Luc, you haven’t. Not quite yet. There’s still the denouement.”  
“Q. Please.”  
“Just one more shift, Jean-Luc, I promise.”  
All Jean-Luc could do was sigh. He couldn’t stop Q if he tried.  
They were in the flitter again, raucously loud music playing. David and Enrique had to shout to hear each other.  
“Isn’t it fucking fantastic?” yelled David  
“What?” asked Enrique loudly.  
Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Jean-Luc had the unsettling feeling his son could see him. “In the cargo space. My siblings and our kids!”  
“Oh! Yeah! Fantastic!”  
“Want to have some fun?” yelled David.  
“Why not?” replied his lover, grinning widely.  
David deactivated the sensors and scanners and pushed the yoke forward. The craft nosedived at over seven hundred kph. They flew into a thick blanket of sea fog, making David whoop with delight. Enrique, however, wasn’t so happy. David levelled out the craft only about twenty metres above the surface of the sea.  
“Don’t you think you should re-engage the navigation controls?” asked Enrique nervously.  
“Where’s the fun in that?” David yelled. “You’ve got to learn to live your life Enrique, mon coeur!”  
The first bird smashed into the port side.  
“What the fuck?!” David shouted.  
Enrique, his dark eyes like saucers, screamed, “Gannets! Diving gannets! Pull up for God’s sake, David...pull up now!”  
Too late David hauled on the yoke but all that did was put the flitter on a collision course with the large flock of diving birds. What happened was inevitable. A large bird speared beak first right through the windscreen, hitting David in the throat. The flitter went wildly out of control, Enrique, who couldn’t pilot the craft, was left strapped in his seat screaming for David to help. But David had died instantly; the head of the bird, its beak still attached had severed his spine.  
The flitter shattered on impact with the sea and sank quickly, taking almost two hours to reach the bottom, three kilometres below. No bodies were ever recovered.  
When Jean-Luc uncovered his face he was back in the execution room.

 

Jean-Luc sank to his knees, overcome with grief and horror. In an uncharacteristic display of sympathy, Q placed a comforting hand on the quietly weeping man. Squatting down, Q said softly, “So, Jean-Luc?”  
He would never be able to explain how he found the strength, but Jean-Luc shook his head.  
“No, Q. I can’t.”  
“Hmm.” Hummed Q. “Stubborn to the last. Very well, Jean-Luc. If I can’t convince you through personal means let me fill you in on what eventually happens...on a galactic scale.”  
Jean-Luc shuddered through a sigh and said weakly, “If I told you to shut up you’d only ignore me wouldn’t you.”  
“You know me so well, Jean-Luc. But that’s something to discuss some other time. You recall I told you there would be a catastrophic event if this timeline continues?”  
Jean-Luc lifted his head, his gaze stricken. “Yes, Jean-Luc, even worse than what you’ve seen so far.”  
Shaking his head, Jean-Luc pleaded. “No more, Q...please, I’ve had enough, I’ve heard enough.”  
“Sorry, that’s just it, Jean-Luc, you haven’t heard enough, not yet.”  
Lowering his head into his hands, Jean-Luc let out a soft moan. Q sat beside the bereft man and kept his hand on his shoulder.  
“The Typhon Pact. You recall I told you it was growing stronger every day? Well, eventually, after twenty-three long years of war it was the Pact who emerged the victors. They’d managed to defeat everyone and the Pact, which now comprised over six hundred worlds went on a killing spree. I could attempt to put a round figure on it, but really, wholesale slaughter on a scale like that...mere numbers are meaningless. But the Pact bore a lot of grudges, especially towards the Federation. What was their solution? They not only obliterated Earth, but they hunted down and butchered each and every human, even any hybrid being who carried human DNA until no trace of humankind existed anywhere in known space. Now I don’t know about you, Jean-Luc, but even the Continuum views that as a catastrophic event.”  
“What do you care, Q? You’ve always made it clear to me the Continuum sees humankind as a nuisance anyway.” The bitterness and recrimination in Jean-Luc’s voice made Q sneer.  
“Oh, make no mistake, Picard, we still do! But the wiping out of an entire species like the humans, plus the complete destruction of their home world...well that just wasn’t supposed to happen. And with the Typhon Pact now free to wander around, doing whatever they please? No, that simply cannot be allowed. Humans, Vulcans, many of the Federation worlds do have some redeeming features, at least we think so. Perhaps with time, they may even evolve into something truly useful. But the Pact? Nope, not a chance. So mon ami, it all comes back to you. Are the stakes high enough now?”  
Jean-Luc spoke so softly, Q had to lean closer and ask him to repeat himself.  
“Do it.”  
His eyes narrowing, the omnipotent being tilted his head, his expression speculative.  
“Are you sure, Jean-Luc?”  
“Yes. Do it. Send me back.”  
Q raised his hand, but then placed his mouth near Jean-Luc’s ear. “You realise of course, there’ll be a price to pay, Jean-Luc? Nothing is for free.”  
“I don’t care, Q. Do it!”

 

Two things were immediately certain. He was in his darkened bedroom on the Enterprise and he could smell the unmistakable scent of sex. The soft voice near his ear made him freeze.  
“Jean-Luc?” whispered Beverly. “What’s wrong? Why have you stopped?”  
It was then he understood he was in the process of making love with Beverly. His erection, which had wilted began to grow again, but Beverly was still concerned. “What is it? Are you in pain?”  
The irony almost made Jean-Luc sob, but instead he buried his face in Beverly neck and hugged her to him, his hips beginning to lift and fall as their intimate dance recommenced.  
Such was the overwhelming sense of relief, joy, love and gratitude Jean-Luc felt, their lovemaking was extraordinary. It was, perhaps, the most intimate, profound and satisfying experience of both their lives.  
In the morning, while Beverly still slept soundly in the tangled mess of their bed coverings, Jean-Luc rose quietly and crept through their quarters. As he entered David’s room his eyes filled with tears. He kissed his son, then went next to Monique’s room. He knew by the decor that Beverly wasn’t yet pregnant with their third child. They’d redecorated Monique’s room as soon as they’d found Beverly was pregnant in an effort to make Monique feel she wasn’t being displaced. With tears streaming freely and unheeded down his cheeks, he kissed his daughter and went to his desk.  
It was the work of mere minutes to bring himself up to where and when he was. The mission to Ereban was still three months away. The Enterprise was docked at McKinley Station undergoing some upgrades. He was just about to make the first of what was going to be many very sensitive and highly secret calls when a sudden realisation hit him.  
Their lovemaking that night. If his calculations were correct, they had just conceived their baby daughter. Again tears ran down his stubbled face, but rather than give in to the remembered pain, anguish and hideous memories, he redirected his emotions to determination and steely resolve. If what Q had shown him was real, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, he had to put in motion the mechanisms of change, but it was going to be extraordinarily difficult and fraught with danger, not just for those he would involve, but his family too.  
Somehow, while the turmoil ensued, he had to find a way to keep them safe. He knew he had but one Achilles’ heel and his enemies would know exactly what it was too.

 

He was still at his desk, completely engrossed when Beverly’s arms wrapped sinuously around his neck from behind. She nuzzled under his ear and tongued his skin. His concentration broken so deliciously, he reached up, taking her hands and guiding her around him to settle her on his lap. He’d surreptitiously tabbed off the monitor and Beverly mewed as he bent to take one of her hardened nipples in his mouth.  
Her head lolling back she mewed again with pleasure and said breathily, “My God, Jean-Luc...last night...”  
“Mmm...” he agreed. “You were magnificent, Beverly, my love.”  
“I was magnificent? Jean-Luc...I don’t know what or why, but you were...”  
“We were, Beverly, it was us...our love.”  
“Oh...that’s so good...” Beverly gently ran her fingertips over the sensitive skin of Jean-Luc’s scalp, making him growl. Her next words made him freeze.  
“You do realise you’re naked and your erection is poking up between my thighs?”  
He was just processing that when a sleepy voice came from his left. “Maman? Papa? What’re doing?”  
Jean-Luc said sotto voce, “And is it now that I point out that you too are naked, Beverly?”  
To David, standing just outside his bedroom door, hair askew and knuckling his eyes, his naked parents presented an amusing sight, but even at the tender age of nearly seven, he knew his father didn’t take kindly to being teased or laughed at. His mother certainly, but the lad knew his father had to be approached carefully if he was to be made fun of. Jean-Luc knew this of course and, armed with the memories that now resided, unwanted but undeniable in his mind and heart; he decided there and then that he would change that aspect of himself. If his children couldn’t laugh at him, who could? Looking around Beverly’s bare shoulder, he grinned at his son and winked. “Maman and I are having a cuddle. Would you like to go back into your bedroom...just for a few minutes while we...get ourselves sorted out?”  
This new attitude of his father both intrigued and delighted David who possessed a wicked sense of humour. Deciding to test this new situation he threw caution to the winds and asked baldly, “Papa?”  
Jean-Luc made sure to keep any inflection of disapproval out of his voice. “Yes? He said lightly. The sly grin on David’s face was the only outward sign of the coming bombshell. “Is your willie all big?”  
Jean-Luc flushed and wanted to both cringe and glower but Beverly’s shaking body as she tried to contain the laughter that wanted to bubble up was enough for him to give a rueful grin. “As a matter of fact, David, yes, it is.”  
“Thought so.” Said the sniggering boy. Without another word, he retreated back into his bedroom, but not before Jean-Luc and Beverly heard him laughing as the doors closed.  
Beverly lifted her head and roared with laughter. It took only a few seconds for Jean-Luc to join her. When she’d regained a modicum of control, Beverly looked down at her lover and said, between fits of residual giggles, “Who are you and what have you done with Jean-Luc?”  
He hugged her and sighed, forgetting, if just for these few precious moments, the deadly task ahead.  
“I am, my lascivious lover, your paramour.”  
“You’re more than that, my love...so much more. I love you, Jean-Luc. Somehow you manage to surprise me just when I think I’ve got you all worked out.”  
“Yes, well...worked out is one thing. Worked up...now that’s another thing entirely and if you don’t remove yourself from my lap, worked up is exactly what I’ll be...again.”  
Giving him a parting kiss, Beverly rose and began to walk towards their bedroom, but she hesitated and half turned, saying over her shoulder, “What possessed you to work at your desk buck-naked anyway?”  
He shrugged Gallically; throwing a wolfish grin. Beverly shook her head and sashayed away, affording Jean-Luc a lovely view of her retreating backside. “Oh, Beverly...I do so love you.”

 

To say that Jean-Luc had roused a hornet’s nest would be putting it mildly. At first, nothing at all seemed to be happening, but he knew, working quietly and diligently behind the scenes, armed with the information he’d supplied, some very brave and dedicated people of high rank and completely trustworthy were burrowing and digging, unearthing names, dates and events, in essence, gathering all they would need to deliver a fatal coup de grâce to not only section 31, but those individuals in Starfleet and on the Federation Council who had corrupted themselves for their own gains.  
Timing would be incredibly important. As the weeks turned to months, some deeply hidden operatives within section 31 were trying to bring the ‘Ereban situation’ to the forefront, trying to find a way to launch the mission they so desperately wanted to commence, but as each mole, each corrupt individual was quietly weeded out, so the power and influence of the section was weakened by degrees.  
All those involved in this clandestine war of attrition knew they would never entirely rid the Federation of section 31, there would always be those who either had an agenda or a different opinion on how the Council should either function or on what to base its policies, but armed with what Jean-Luc had told them, those who did the work of identifying the traitors and quietly removing them had enough information and power to also circumvent events as far away as Qo’noS where the Duras family, led by Toral were effectively muzzled and negated. The new Chancellor and leader of the Klingon High Council was Chancellor Mogh, a distant relative of Commander Worf, an old friend, ally and former crewmember of the Enterprise who had immediately pledged his peoples’ unshakable allegiance to the Federation.  
On the day Beverly announced to Jean-Luc that she was pregnant he had his first unsettling experience. He had been ‘back’ five weeks and he had, through his reliable contacts, made it so the Enterprise was a long way from Earth, assisting in a terra-forming mission, one of many underway to help provide liveable planets for the many refugees still seeking a permanent home since the Borg incursion.  
Even though he knew in advance what Beverly alluded to as her ‘surprise’ was he was still delighted. They held a small celebration that night, Jean-Luc, Beverly, David and Monique seated around the table as Beverly made her announcement about her pregnancy. The children were guardedly happy, to be expected, both parents knew, but when Beverly turned her dancing eyes on her partner she was very disconcerted to see nothing but vacancy in his gaze. She had to say his name three times, each time louder and with growing alarm before he suddenly snapped out of whatever had taken him.  
He blinked in surprise to see Beverly standing by his side, gripping his shoulder hard, while David and Monique stood close by, holding hands and with uncertainty and fear on their faces.  
“Jean-Luc, are you all right?! What just happened?”  
Scrambling to cover his fear and embarrassment, Jean-Luc summoned what he hoped was a warm, unconcerned smile. “Oh! I’m sorry, Beverly, I was wool gathering. When you made your announcement I was so happy, I was remembering the first time...you know, when you told me you were pregnant with David. All those wonderful feelings came rushing back. I suppose I was a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”  
Giving him a long, speculative look, Beverly decided to believe him. Lately he’d been more demonstrative and relaxed with the children and their lovemaking...she flushed and sighed with deeply satisfied happiness. Even his dealings with the crew, the senior staff in particular had changed.  
She was aware something very big was going on at command, perhaps even the Federation Council itself and she had an inkling Jean-Luc was involved. Perhaps that was at the heart of this...change he was undergoing. They’d both been seeing the effects of ever increasingly unpopular policies handed down by the council and discontent had been brewing quietly amongst the fleet, but as far as she could tell, things were settling down. Those whom she relied on for scuttlebutt had made it quite clear that things were ‘on the move’ and in the right direction. All very cryptic as far as she was concerned, but reading between the lines, Beverly got the unmistakable impression that whatever had been blighting the organisation they served was either undergoing change itself or was being eliminated. Either way, it seemed to be having a very beneficial effect on her lover.  
There was only one aspect of the whole thing that bothered her and that was Jean-Luc’s reluctance to talk to her about it. Normally they discussed almost everything. Yes, Beverly understood there were times when, as Captain, Jean-Luc couldn’t discuss some aspects of his job with anyone below a certain rank, despite their relationship and she had long ago accepted that, but this seemed to be far too broad...too wide spread to be kept so secret and the very fact he deflected her when she tried to talk to him about it, rather than simply tell her he couldn’t talk about it only made her more concerned...and suspicious.  
Still, his explanation of his lapse made sense, so Beverly dismissed it from her mind. Jean-Luc, however could not. From the moment he’d ‘gone’ to the instant he ‘returned’ there was nothing. No memory, no sound, sight, smell, touch...nothing. It unnerved him and he had to admit, frightened him, but unless he asked Beverly to examine him...something he was not going to do, he was just going to have to accept it had happened and forget about it. And hope like hell it didn’t happen again.

 

The encryption on the channel was the most secure Jean-Luc had ever encountered. For the first time in his life as a captain, the normal protocol of a voice identification and information of name and rank, followed by the code of the day was insufficient. He had to supply a retinal scan, a palm scan and a remote DNA read before the channel would open and even then it was jacketed and scrambled within a sub space packet.  
Having undergone such scrutiny, Jean-Luc breathed a sigh of relief and offered a warm smile at seeing an old friend’s face.  
“Jeremy! It’s good to see you.”  
“And you, you old dog, Picard. Word’s just reached us. You’re going to be a father again?”  
Jean-Luc’s broad smile was justifiably proud. “Indeed I am.”  
The grin on the Admiral’s face became decided lecherous. “If I had a partner as beautiful and sensuous as yours, Jean-Luc, I’d be having kids all the time too.”  
Rolling his eyes, Jean-Luc tried to look annoyed at the puerile remark, but his male pride had been stroked and even a man as urbane and sophisticated as Jean-Luc Picard knew when to take his due. “Yes, well...can you blame me?”  
“Ha!” his friend barked. “Gods, Picard, if I were you, I wouldn’t leave the bedroom. How do you get any work done anyway?”  
They chuckled for a moment or two before Jeremy sobered. “I have news my friend.”  
Sitting forward, Jean-Luc became all business. “Yes?”  
The one word sent a spike of dread and remembered horror down Jean-Luc’s spine.  
“Ereban.”  
Jean-Luc remained silent, giving Jeremy no opportunity to soften his report. “I didn’t believe it, you know.” He sighed. “All that intel you gave us, the scope of duplicity between the council, section 31, the neighbouring planets and the collusion of certain elements of Ereban’s own government...it seemed too...despicable.”  
He sighed again and shook his head. “But it’s true...all of it and it really does go back as far as you intimated. 120 years, Jean-Luc! Over a fucking century! How the hell did section 31, as a fledgling group as they were back then, manage to orchestrate such a long-term plot? They must’ve known it couldn’t come to fruition for years. And the warring neighbours? How much interference from the Federation or section 31 was involved in their part? My God...it beggars belief!”  
Jean-Luc bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What about the Ereban, Jeremy? Can they be helped?”  
“I doubt it, Jean-Luc. This...accelerated evolution? It’s worse than even you reported. They’re not dealing with three variances of their species, Jean-Luc, but four or five.”  
“And there’s no way to keep them separate?”  
Shaking his head, the admiral’s expression was savagely angry. “No! With the emergence of the lurin and their propensity for indiscriminate and prolific breeding, it’s inevitable there’s going to be a blending...a melange...and no one, not us or the Ereban themselves knows what the hell they’re going to become! And, Jean-Luc...the inter-species the grumpy neighbours created? They made lurin too. Those ‘operatives’ present on Ereban are just as programmed to breed and as prolifically as the Ereban example of lurin.”  
“God...what a mess! Still, it’ll be fairly quick, in evolutionary terms.” Remarked Jean-Luc. “With the relatively short lifespan of the Ereban, the outcome should become clear in one or two generations.”  
“Maybe, maybe not.” Jeremy grunted. Jean-Luc’s eyebrows rose.  
“Why do you say that?”  
“Well, apart from the population explosion of the ‘new’ Ereban, it’s the DNA, Jean-Luc. If the dominant strands were Ereban or even their neighbours, I’d agree with you, but throw in human DNA and that changes the picture significantly! Even their sexual practices are now more closely resembling human than the old Ereban ways. They now have sex for pleasure and the ‘older’ example of the species is rapidly becoming infertile. It’s like some kind of species selection at work.”  
“But that sounds more like evolution in reverse. Surely the process, the purpose of evolution is to improve not eliminate what is...or was...a perfectly satisfactory species. What would be the point?”  
“You tell me! And think about this. When this...process is over and the Ereban are finished with their evolutionary changes, what then? They will have to deal with the fact that they’ve been manipulated by foreign powers, both through their own government in the way of the collusion with us and by biological interference, again by outside influences. Despite us being able to rectify a lot of what was to come, we can’t change what’s already taken place. The Typhon Pact still exists, Jean-Luc and you can’t tell me that with the withdrawal of section 31 and the support, albeit clandestine of the council, those belligerent neighbours of Ereban won’t take full advantage.” He grimaced. “And who could blame them? They know they’re not going to survive, even as a blended species unless they’re successful with their plans for Ereban and its people. With or without our help, that’s already in progress. It just remains to be seen who gets the crumbs. Us or the Typhon Pact.”  
“Jeremy...” Jean-Luc said wearily and with a trace of distaste. “Ereban isn’t a prize to be fought over. Haven’t those people suffered enough? Why can’t we show them honest good faith for once and protect them while they undergo their changes. At the very least it’ll keep the Typhon Pact and the neighbours off their backs while they deal with the repercussions of what’s been done to them. And then they can have the luxury...no, the right to choose who they wish to align themselves with...if they wish to be aligned with anyone at all. If I were them, I’d be highly inclined to tell everyone within shouting distance to fuck off!”  
Jeremy blinked with surprise. Jean-Luc Picard rarely ever used profanities. It was a sure measure of how deeply he felt about the entire situation.  
“Well on the face of it, that’s a valid suggestion, Jean-Luc, but I’m not sure how the council will take to it.”  
“Provided the council is now free of the corruption that’s been within it for so long, I can’t see how they can deny it.” Jean-Luc said quietly. “I suppose we’ll never know whether or not Karl Noonien Singh acted on his own or by some implanted imperative, but the fact remains we, the Federation, has been involved in the interference of a species, not only in a political sense, in direct violation of the Prime Directive, but from a biological standpoint and for our own particular political gain! Now you described our actions over the years as despicable and you’re quite right. What we have to do now is either help by protecting them or leaving them alone. I think either way, we’ve done enough damage to Ereban.”  
“You’re right of course. I’ll speak to the right people...see what they have to say, but the scope of this, Jean-Luc...the magnitude of what we’ve done...”  
“I know, old friend. The old axiom...what’s done can’t be undone is true, but we can help. How will be up to the Ereban and if we eventually lose our relationship with them and the Typhon Pact does indeed take advantage of the situation and absorbs the Ereban and their neighbours, well we’ll just have to deal with that if and when it happens.”  
“Agreed. Talk to you soon, Jean-Luc. Lerinn out.”

 

With section 31 all but destroyed, the mission to Ereban never took place. The terra-forming mission kept the Enterprise out in deep space for two and a half months and it was over that time that Jean-Luc made his slow but steady recovery from the effect of his memories.  
Now safe for them to return, at least into space closer to Earth, the great ship was taking part in a much anticipated scientific study, something they’d not done in over two years.  
Jean-Luc had been working late, something he detested these days as it prevented him from sharing dinner with his family and then helping Beverly bath the children. He had developed the habit of reading to David and Monique each night before tucking them in. As he kissed each child he felt how deeply he loved and cherished them. Then, once they were asleep, he and Beverly relaxed before going to bed, often to make love, albeit more gently these days as her pregnancy progressed.  
So it was late as he walked the corridors towards their quarters. The gentle voice of Deanna Troi made Jean-Luc jump. He looked around in confusion, trying to work out where he was and how he’d got there. Hunkered down in front of him was Will, his open face clouded in an expression of concern and worry. Deanna was kneeling in front of Jean-Luc, holding both his hands. “Captain?” she said gently and obviously not for the first time.  
“Yes.” He replied uncertainly. “What’s happened?”  
“I was going to ask you, sir. Will found you in the corridor. You were just standing still, unresponsive.”  
Looking around in the dim light, Jean-Luc finally recognised where he was. “Observation room, deck seven, port side.”  
Deanna smiled, the relief in her eyes clear to see. “Yes, sir. But can you tell me what happened? Do you remember, Captain?”  
“Ah...no, Counsellor, I don’t.”  
“What’s the last thing you do remember?”  
Rubbing his fingers over his lower lip, Jean-Luc frowned. “I was...I was going home. Yes...I’d had to work late and I was just getting off duty. I was annoyed...I missed dinner with my family and helping Beverly bath the children then read to them.” He smiled down at Deanna wistfully. “They’d be asleep by now.”  
“Captain...” He knew by her tone he was not going to like the question. “Has this...” she waved her hand between them. “...happened before?”  
He summoned a smile and made use of his ability to project a calm demeanour. “Oh, no, Counsellor. Look, I just think I’ve been working a bit too hard, that’s all. With Beverly being pregnant I’ve been taking on a bit more of the domestic chores, you know, helping where I can. What with my recent experiences with Q...I suppose I just got distracted.” He made his smile even more engaging. “I do admit I am tired. I’m no spring chicken any more.”  
Not convinced, but with no reason to not believe him, Deanna rose and let go of his hands. “Well, Captain, I can’t say I have any professional reason to compel you to undergo any testing, at least not from a psychological point of view, but if I may, sir, perhaps it would be a good idea to have Beverly examine you? You never did tell me the details of your recent experiences, it could be that you were more affected than you realise.”  
Jean-Luc rose and kept his smile in place. “I’m sure I’m fine, Counsellor, but I will avail myself of my lovely partner’s attentions if I think I need to.”  
Deanna knew that was all she was going to get, so she moved to give her Captain a clear path to the door. Just as he was about to leave the room she said quietly, “I will have to tell her, Captain.”  
He turned; the smile still in place but now a little strained. “Of course, Counsellor, I’d expect nothing less.”  
As he resumed his journey to his quarters he thought darkly, “Shit! That’s all I need!” The fear was back in full force.

 

Deanna indeed told Beverly of what had occurred and the next evening it was a worried doctor who, after their children had been fed, bathed, read to and put to bed that she brought the subject up. Jean-Luc had been expecting it and had prepared what he hoped was a plausible excuse.  
“So, Jean-Luc. Last night, on your way home, what happened?”  
He adopted a puzzled expression. “Actually, I don’t know. I had been working very hard; I know I was deeply preoccupied, I suppose I got lost in thought again.”  
Beverly’s look was speculative. “That’s twice in as many months, Jean-Luc. Since when do you get so preoccupied that you lose touch with reality?”  
“Oh...” said Jean-Luc waving the question away. “I wouldn’t go as far as that, Beverly. I think that’s a little melodramatic.”  
Annoyed by his casual dismissal, Beverly’s tone lost its gentleness. “Jean-Luc, people...healthy people don’t experience lapses such as you’ve had. It just isn’t right.”  
He smiled, saying gently, “Not even people who have had an extraordinary...and upsetting experience with the likes of Q?”  
“An experience you still haven’t told me about. Look, Jean-Luc, if what he put you through was so traumatic that you’re exhibiting mental lapses, then perhaps you should talk to Deanna.”  
He was shaking his head, forming the words to gently refuse when Beverly said in a no-nonsense tone, “You either talk to her...and tell her everything...or I order you down to sickbay where I’ll go over you with a fine toothed comb. Every square centimetre of you, Jean-Luc, inside and out. Your choice.”  
He tried not to glare but some of it leaked into his eyes. Beverly shrugged and said evenly, “At least I’m giving you a choice, Jean-Luc. Be thankful for that at least.”  
Even though he was angry, he knew Beverly’s reaction was driven by her deep love and concern for him. She was worried, but she was, to a point, giving him the benefit of the doubt. As for a choice, he didn’t actually have one. If what he was beginning to suspect were true, Deanna was his only option. He made an appointment to see her first thing the following morning. Reluctantly.

 

 

Even though he had his mental barriers firmly in place, Deanna clearly sensed his presence as he approached her office. It was a tip-of-his-hat to her that he’d agreed to meet in her office. Usually he preferred to meet in his ready room or more seldom, in his quarters. His territory, his advantage, albeit subtle.  
She could tell by the slight tightness in his shoulders and the glint in his eyes, though well disguised, that he would rather be elsewhere, but that in itself was nothing new.  
Although they’d served together for years and he’d come to trust Deanna he was still reticent when it came to discussing personal issues. That was something he would only do comfortably and freely with Beverly.  
So Deanna had prepared her strategy in advance. He appreciated directness, but only to a point. This particular patient had to be approached very carefully. Too much pushing and he’d shut up so tightly, no one would get in. Too soft a touch, and he’d take advantage and dominate the direction of the session and only reveal what he wanted to and not what he needed to.  
Even though they were both well aware of this little pas de deux they indulged in, the plain fact was, if Deanna deviated she’d get nowhere. So when he entered to her gentle call, she felt she was ready.  
“Good morning, Captain. Thank you for meeting me here, in my office.”  
“Not at all, Counsellor, you’ve indulged me often enough. It’s time I reciprocated.”  
“Well,” thought Deanna. “A promising start.”  
“Where would you like to start, sir?”  
He sat, taking a short, sharp breath, Jean-Luc’s eyes hardened. “Actually, Counsellor, I’d rather not start at all.”  
“Ah, “thought Deanna. “Here we go, the parrying has begun.”  
“Really, Captain? Given that it was you who made the appointment, I’d have thought you were willing to be compliant.”  
“My compliance isn’t the crux of the matter, Counsellor. I’m here because my partner, acting as CMO no less made it abundantly clear if I didn’t make this appointment, I would be doomed to submit to her not-so-gentle rummaging of my entire body, inside and out.”  
Offering a sympathetic smile, Deanna inclined her head. “Oh, I see. Well, Captain, I can assure you, although my ‘rummaging’ will be as thorough as Beverly’s...it won’t hurt.”  
His face took on an expression not only had she never seen on him before, but defied her ability to describe it. She was so concerned she leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee and saying carefully, “Captain?”  
He blinked and the expression vanished. He sighed and dredged up a wan smile. “Won’t hurt, Counsellor? That would depend on what I tell you, wouldn’t it?”  
Immediately on her guard, Deanna said softly, “What happened, Captain? What is it you remember that causes you so much pain? Pain your trying so hard to hide from me?”  
Jean-Luc knew there was no way he could possibly tell her every detail of what he’d experienced...what he’d been witness to. Not only to protect himself but to spare her the horror of the future they’d only just managed to avoid. So, gathering his courage, he gave her an abridged version up to the point where Q first appeared. It was enough. Despite years of experience and professional detachment, when Jean-Luc looked up, Deanna’s hand was covering her mouth and tears ran down her cheeks. When she could, she said brokenly,  
“Dear God, Captain. I’m so sorry. How...how did you cope with this for so long?”  
“I won’t try to tell you it was easy, Deanna, but I didn’t actually have an alternative, did I? I can’t risk Beverly finding out, especially as she’s now pregnant, the shock could do her or our baby harm. And as for telling you...” he sighed and closed his eyes. “Remembering it hurts, Counsellor, it hurts in ways I can’t adequately describe. So you see I was due for pain no matter what I did.”  
Again she reiterated, “I’m so sorry, Captain.”  
“Don’t be, Counsellor.” His smile became a little stronger. “It never happened, remember. But I do have the memories, which is ironic, don’t you think? It’s like Kataan all over again.” He snorted and briefly closed his eyes. “So I think the occasional ‘lapse’ on my part is understandable, nʹest pas?”  
He’d never used his native tongue with her before and she was momentarily thrown off. She didn’t actually understand the words, but she felt she understood their context. As odd as it’d been for him to do it, she let it pass.  
“Yes, Captain, perfectly understandable.”  
“So what will you say in your report?”  
She smiled, letting him know Beverly would never be told the details of what he’d revealed. “Only that you’ve undergone a traumatic experience and are experiencing expected and understandable psychological after effects.”  
He stood and the look in his eyes as he gazed down at the seated, petite and pretty woman and friend was paternally warm. His deep, soft voice sent a shiver through the counsellor. “Thank you, Deanna. I’m in your debt.”  
Rising, she took his large hand, staring at it fixedly, so big in comparison to hers and struggled to keep control of her emotions. He’d lowered his barriers and she could feel his relief and gratitude now as well as the residue of his remembered pain.  
“No debts, Captain, not between you and me.”  
His eyebrows rose as she went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He smiled again and left, leaving Deanna to struggle to find her equilibrium. She had another appointment within the hour and she knew it would take at least that long to recover.  
As Jean-Luc strode with outward confidence to the lift he mentally wiped his brow. “That was close, Jean-Luc. You’re going to have to keep tighter control, old man.”  
The trouble was, of course, he had no control over what had happened and he didn’t know if or when it might happen again. Somehow he knew it would and again, he felt dreadful fear.

 

Later that afternoon it was Beverly seated in Deanna’s office. Two steaming mugs sat on the coffee table as a relieved Beverly sat back and closed her eyes. “Thank God!” she exclaimed. “I was so worried, Dee.”  
“Well, although I can’t go into details, I can tell you his ‘lapses’ are perfectly normal.”  
Beverly sat forward, picked up her mug and took a tentative sip before frowning and saying, “I do wish he’d confide in me though. It’s so unlike him to not tell me when something’s bothering him, especially when it’s something bad. I mean I know if it’s a matter of security and he can’t, fair enough, but this whole shift in the Federation Council...everyone knows about it and I know Jean-Luc’s involved, albeit only on the periphery...at least that’s what my info says, but even so, if so many people are blabbing about it, why isn’t he talking to me? We always talk...share...”  
Taking great care to choose her words judiciously, Deanna said, “Sometimes there’re things that people just have to deal with on their own. It’s not a reflection on his relationship with you, Beverly, it’s not about trust. Just give him his due and let it go.”  
Finally finding a smile, Beverly nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t tell him everything.”  
“There you go.”  
Both women giggled and Beverly drained her mug. She stood and was making her way to the doors when Deanna asked off-handedly, “Tell me something though.”  
“What?”  
“Does the Captain often resort to speaking French with you?”  
The blush that coloured the doctor’s face made Deanna grin. She knew the answer simply by what she sensed from the embarrassed woman.  
“Only when we’re making love.”  
Keeping her smile in place, Deanna pressed a little harder. “No other times?”  
Beverly began to pick up the subtly of the gentle interrogation. “Well he’s teaching the kids, but other than that I’ve heard he’s said ‘merde’ once or twice.”  
To Deanna’s raised eyebrow, Beverly sighed irritably. “It means ‘shit’ and I know he’s said it once or twice on the bridge.”  
“I take it the circumstances warranted it?”  
Through gritted teeth, Beverly said tightly, “I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t there.”  
“But it’s only been once or twice over how long?”  
“Why do you want to know?!”  
Giving a nonchalant shrug, Deanna knew she could press no further. “No particular reason, just curious.”  
Calming herself, Beverly said in a more reasonable tone. “Ask Will. He’ll know.”  
“Maybe I will. See you at lunch tomorrow?”  
“Yep! Usual table in the forward lounge.”  
“Okay, bye.”  
Once Beverly had gone, Deanna sat and thought. “Yes, Will. Good idea, Beverly.”

 

The last thing Will expected as he relaxed after dinner was the odd question his lover posed.  
“Will,” said Deanna off handedly, as they sat together on the sofa, feet up and enjoying a brandy. “How many times have you heard the captain use French?”  
“What?” Said the confused exec.  
“You heard me.” Deanna’s tone had changed and Will noted the unmistakable trace of professional concern. Now serious, Will answered as best he could. Anything to do with his captain, especially where it came to his well being Will took very seriously.  
“Okay...um...I’ve heard him say...ah...merde; I think is how it’s pronounced. I asked Data, you know years ago what it meant and he told me it means...”  
“...shit, yes I know that, but what I want to know is how many times he’s done it and if he’s ever used any other words...examples of his native language?”  
Will frowned and took a long sip, baring his teeth as he swallowed. “Well, he used to say it a bit in the early years on the ‘D’ but he sort of stopped. In fact, I’ve not heard him use any French at all since those days.”  
In the ensuing silence, Deanna’s expression was closed. Will knew better than to ask, but he did anyway. “Is there a problem?”  
The counsellor sighed and took a moment to plex. “No...not exactly.”  
“Then why do I get the impression you’re worried about the captain? Does it have anything to do with that thing, you know...that ‘lapse’ thing?”  
Deanna looked into Will’s eyes for the first time and his own worry increased. “What is it, Dee?”  
She sighed and took too large a sip, making her swallow too quickly, her eyes tearing and a cough dredged up. When he’d regained her breath, she grimaced. “That’s just it, Will,” she said in a brandy-roughened voice. “I’m not sure. I get the feeling something’s not right, but I can’t pin it down. It’s not one thing, but a few small things that are making me...” she shook her head, irritated she couldn’t properly articulate her concern. “Look, just put it down to intuition.”  
Will’s eyebrows rose. “Intuition?” he said with some disbelief. “You’ve never relied on intuition, Deanna; you have your empathic senses. Why stoop so low as to try and utilise your human side?”  
It had been intended as a joke, but Deanna didn’t find it at all amusing. She shot her lover a glare and said tartly, “If you paid more attention to your captain, maybe I wouldn’t have to ask these inane questions and this situation...whatever it is, may have been picked up a long time ago!”  
Will allowed a few moments before he said, “That was uncalled for.”  
Deanna seemed to deflate before his eyes. She tipped her head back and drained what was left of the brandy. After waiting a few seconds for the initial effect to wane, she sighed and said softly, “I know and I’m sorry, Will. I guess I’m just not used to being unable to sort something like this out.”  
“You can’t sense him?”  
She offered a rueful smile. “He has phenomenal control, Will. Even when I first came aboard the ‘D’ he was good at hiding his inner self, but after that mind meld with Sarek...” she sighed again, closed her eyes and slumped back on the sofa. “What he learned from that man...these days he has honed his metal discipline to a point where I can barely sense him at all. If I sense anything, it’s only what he wants me to get.”  
“But you think something’s wrong.”  
“I don’t know!” Deanna’s frustration had made her raise her voice. She placed a placating hand on Will’s thigh and gave him an apologetic smile. In a softer voice she said, “The captain underwent a very traumatic experience with Q. Now that alone would be enough to make anyone behave...oddly. And, although I can’t give you any details, I can tell you it was traumatic enough to expect him to exhibit...‘lapses’ both like you saw and other forms of odd behaviour for some time, but I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than meets the eye.”  
“So...” Will asked cautiously, “what can you do?”  
“Now that’s the gold pressed latinum question! If I keep too close an ‘eye’ on him, he’ll know immediately and react badly. If I make my concerns known to Beverly, she’ll haul him down to sickbay and examine down to his molecular level...for which I will get the blame. God, Will, even if I say something innocuous, really oblique like...Beverly, have you noticed anything different about the captain lately? Is going to raise a red flag!”  
Will shrugged and finished off his brandy. He leaned forward and picked up the bottle, putting in another generous measure. He only offered to refill Deanna’s balloon as a gesture of good manners and he was very surprised when she nodded. She picked up her glass and took what could only be described as a swig. It made her cough and her eyes stream. Will was amused and worried at the same time. Keeping his tone non-committal, he said, “Surely Beverly’d notice if anything was wrong?”  
Having found her voice again, as she wiped away her tears, Deanna said, “Under normal circumstances, of course she would. But she’s pregnant, Will and the two of them have David and Monique to look after too. I think it’s a mixture of her preoccupation with the kids and the changes that occur in a woman’s brain during pregnancy that’s not blinding her exactly, but making her less aware.”  
The big, bearded man slowly nodded. “Yeah, and the captain’s not going to say anything either, is he.”  
“Not on your life!” Deanna snorted. “True to form, he’d keep anything about his health to himself until he was forced to admit to Beverly that he needed help and that is even more true now, ‘cause he’d want to protect her from any external worry during her pregnancy.”  
“Then all you...we...can do is sit back, watch very covertly and wait.”  
“Yes, and I don’t mind telling you, Will, it’s driving me nuts!”  
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her to him. After taking a long sip of brandy he whispered, “Welcome to your human side, Dee.”  
“Shut up, you insufferable...Earther! When I finish this dreadful liquor I’m going to bed and I expect you to accompany me.”  
His eyebrows rose again, but a lecherous grin lurked. “I take it you’re in need of some ‘stress relief’?”  
“You know damned well I am! This...” she held up brandy filled the balloon.”Was a deliberate ploy on your part to illicit a sexual response, just as you knew it would.”  
“True,” Will grinned wolfishly. “But it did work, didn’t it?”  
Offering a soft grunt, Deanna gulped down the remaining liquor, rose on unsteady legs and made her way to the bedroom, coughing the entire way. Will chuckled softly and swallowed what was left of his drink, loosening his shirt as he followed his lover. “Happy days.” He thought, all concern for his captain vanishing as his erection hardened. 

 

Beverly was heavily pregnant when the next odd thing happened with her partner. She was only two days from her due date and she and Jean-Luc had been down to sick bay to finalise the birthing procedure. Beverly had opted for an assisted delivery, although she did want to do some of the work herself. Their children would be present and she would utilise the birthing chair, rather than a biobed or the water delivery suite. Because of her age, it had been decided that should she encounter any problems at all, the baby would be beamed out.  
It had been a very long day. Being so large and with the constant interruption of nocturnal toilet visits, Beverly wasn’t sleeping well and as a result, neither was Jean-Luc. Added to that was the very intricate and delicate negotiations he was embroiled in with yet another Federation world who were reassessing their membership. Jean-Luc was rising early; doing what he could to help Beverly with the children before spending not only all of his normal shift, but hours extra in his efforts to keep the recalcitrant world within the Federation fold.  
So it wasn’t surprising that he’d dozed off on the one night he’d managed to get home at a reasonable hour. It was just after dinner and the children were off, preparing for their bath. Beverly had filled the tub and had come back with a naked David and Monique to get their father, only to find him asleep at the table.  
David was climbing onto his father’s lap when the man’s eyes snapped open only to have him say curtly, “Quʹest-ce que vous pensez que vous faites?”  
David froze, not fully understanding what his father had said. The universal translator had been turned off in their quarters so that the children could learn French, but neither was good enough quite yet. And there was his tone, which was cold and angry as was his expression. Beverly, however, understood every word.  
“What do you mean, what the hell are you doing? He’s getting on your lap so you can piggy back him while you carry Monique! Their bath’s ready.”  
He lifted David off his lap with obvious distaste, then turned his cold eyes on Beverly, saying tightly, “Vous madame, êtes-vous responsable des ces enfants...? Parce que je troure leur comprtement inacceptable!”  
Beverly’s mouth gaped as she gathered their confused children to her. David said quietly, “Maman, what’s wrong with papa?”  
Instead of answering the boy, Beverly stepped forward and grabbed Jean-Luc’s shoulder, shaking it hard while saying loudly, “Jean-Luc! Wake up!”  
He glared up at her, snarling, “Lâcher une femme ou moi je vais...”  
Anger warred with alarm as Beverly said loudly, “Unhand you or you’ll what, Jean-Luc? Wake up, for God’s sake!”  
The man suddenly blinked and looked around in confusion. “What? Where?”  
Kneeling awkwardly at his legs, Beverly took his hands and said gently, “Look at me, Jean-Luc.” He did so and seemed to focus on her. “Beverly?” he said tentatively.  
She smiled. “Yes. It’s all right, Jean-Luc, you were dreaming, that’s all.”  
“I don’t...” He was going to say that he didn’t remember, but caught the words before they left his mouth. “Oh! Yes...” he said. “I was...”  
“In France, obviously.” Chuckled Beverly. “And not at all used to children.”  
Seeing the disconcerted look on his son and daughter, he smiled and opened his arms wide. “Seeing as how you’re both unclothed, I take it it’s bath time.”  
Monique giggled and climbed up on one leg. David however was a little reluctant. “It’s all right, mon jeune fils, everything’s all right.”  
Still not completely convinced, David nevertheless climbed up onto his father’s back, but as the man rose, hugging Monique, David whispered, “Papa?”  
“Yes?”  
“Can we not speak any more French for a while?”  
Feeling a pang of deep guilt, but not remembering what’d caused it, Jean-Luc readily agreed. “Of course David. You let me know when you want to start again.”  
“Thank you, papa.”

 

Later in bed, barely awake, Jean-Luc heard Beverly say, “That must’ve been some dream, Jean-Luc. I mean, asking David what the hell he was doing then telling me to unhand you and then asking me if I was responsible for the kids as you found their behaviour unacceptable! God, if you hadn’t been dreaming, I would’ve slapped your face.”  
He swallowed to wet his suddenly dry mouth. “Yes, well that’s the thing with dreams, isn’t it? In any case, I’m sorry.”  
“Mmm. ‘Night.”  
“Bonsoir, maman.”  
As he drifted off he didn’t realise he’d once again lapsed into French and called Beverly, mum. Fortunately Beverly was already asleep.

 

The birth of their precious little girl was uncomplicated and Beverly was able to give as much input as she wished. Jean-Luc delivered their daughter under Selar’s watchful eyes while David and Monique looked on, David with mild disgust, Monique with excited wonder. The parents decided to name her Giselle.  
Over the next few weeks, all went well, but on five separate occasions, fortunately each instance in his ready room while he was alone, Jean-Luc experienced more lapses. He only knew they’d occurred by the simple fact that he’d taken the precaution of placing a small, discreet chronometer on his desk and by merely glancing at it he knew instantly how much time had passed during each episode.  
His fear turned to dread as she realised the lapses were growing longer. He knew he should do something...say something, but Beverly was so taken up with the new baby and the children were relying on him more and more as Giselle took up increasing amounts of Beverly’s time, he convinced himself that whatever it was, it would pass. No, no need to worry an already very busy new mother.  
This type of denial, this self-delusion was uncharacteristic for Jean-Luc, usually a man to tackle most things head on but he’d been so affected by what Q had shown him, he pushed it all as deeply into the recesses of his mind as he could. If this...whatever it was had anything to do with that, he didn’t want to know.  
Somehow he kept his growing problem hidden, but there were some close calls. His explanations, when he’d been discovered were becoming thin, his plausibility losing credibility. Now that Giselle was four months old, Beverly was back at work part-time and had reverted to her old self, sharp as a tack and less likely to be hood-winked. So when she tackled her partner and not very subtly over a report he’d been seen sitting in the forward lounge seeming ‘lost in thought’ Beverly was none too pleased.  
He knew the futility of even attempting an excuse. Quite simply, he’d run dry. So instead he took Beverly’s hands and stared into her eyes. “Beverly, my love, we need a holiday.”  
Wrong footed, Beverly frowned and said warily, “What?”  
“You heard me.” He said with a warm smile. “Since Giselle’s birth we’ve been flat out, you with work and the children, me with work and doing what I can to help. Why don’t we take a break...a long break?”  
“How long?” Beverly was still suspicious; Jean-Luc wasn’t exactly the ‘holiday’ kind.  
“Five months.”  
“Five months?!” Beverly almost shouted. “Jean-Luc...what the hell...?”  
His enthusiastic expression sobered. “I’m tired, Beverly. With all that’s been going on with the council, then Giselle’s birth...” he sighed. “I’d like to get away for a while...just us as a family.”  
“Well...” said Beverly, slowly warming to the idea. “It would be nice. When? When do you think we can get away?”  
“Soon.” Jean-Luc said firmly. “There’re still some things I must do,” he made a vague gesture with his hand. “...to do with the council, but two, perhaps three weeks?”  
“Okay,” Beverly agreed. “But Jean-Luc...this council business. Can you...will you...tell me about it? I mean the rumour mill is full of it yet you’ve chosen to say nothing, at least not to me.”  
The hurt in her voice caused him physical pain. Taking her hands, He said softly, “Once we’re on holiday, I’ll tell you what I can, all right?”  
Knowing he had gone as far as he could, or would, Beverly nodded. “Okay. So two or three weeks then? I’d best get busy tying up some loose ends.”  
“Yes, me too.”

 

Two days later, Jeremy Lerinn made another call to the Enterprise. This time the man was in a far better mood.  
“I had a very interesting call from Bacco’s secretary.”  
“Really?” replied an intrigued Jean-Luc. “The Federation President’s private secretary called you?”  
“Indeed he did. And guess what he had to say?”  
“I’ve no idea.”  
Jeremy leaned forward his dark green eyes twinkling. “The Tholian Ambassador wishes to meet.”  
Jean-Luc had shifted forward in his seat too in an unconscious movement. “To what end?”  
“Apparently things aren’t all that sweetness and light within the Pact. With the collapse of the Ereban situation and the weeding out of the traitors here, not to mention removing the teeth from section 31, the Pact has been effectively weakened. Those worlds that seceded? The ones the Pact hoped would join them? Seems quite a few are reconsidering Federation membership. And Ereban. They’ve made peace with their neighbours, Jean-Luc. We’re now looking at...well, maybe not exactly unified, but certainly a much stronger entity. I doubt anyone’s going to be forcing them into anything they don’t want without one hell of a fight. Of course the Pact knows this and it’s another loss to them. Now, as you know there are six core members of the Pact. The founding members are the Tholian Assembly. The others are the Gorn Hegenomy, the Holy Order of Kinshaya, the Romulans, of course, the Tzenkethi Coalition and the Breen Confederacy. Now as I understand it, the Tholian ambassador is representing five of the six, the odd man out are the Tzenkethis. They vehemently oppose any relations with the Federation.”  
“And what of Ereban? Any contact?”  
Jeremy shrugged. “No, but we’re hoping they’re not a lost cause. With their new-found strength and autonomy, they might, one day, forgive us, but my gut feeling is that they’ll sit pat for some time. They have the whole evolution thing to deal with first. Like you said, it’ll be at least two, maybe three generations until anyone knows what they’re going to be and I guess that’ll be the deciding factor. If they feel they can look after themselves, I doubt we’ll ever hear from them again.”  
Jean-Luc sighed. “It’s such a pity you know, Jeremy. The Ereban are...or were a decent people...even given the obvious flaws in their society.” He gave Jeremy a piecing look. “And that’s not unique to Ereban, is it.” Jeremy had the good grace to look embarrassed.  
“No.” He replied softly. “No, it’s not.”  
Jean-Luc frowned, doing his best to keep his frustration and anger at bay. “What’s been done to them...” he sighed again and decided to move on. Dwelling on things he couldn’t change helped no one. Jean-Luc’s fingers were rubbing his lower lip. He took a deep breath and changed focus. “And just what kind of relationship is the Tholian ambassador proposing?”  
“Now that I don’t know, nobody does. I guess we’ll just have to wait and hear what he has to say, although I seriously doubt it’ll be the proverbial olive branch. More like a mutual non-aggression deal.”  
“Yes,” agreed Jean-Luc wryly. “Until they can either recruit more worlds or come up with something that gives them the upper hand.”  
“Uh huh. Anyway, this is basically a heads-up. All Starfleet ships have been notified that any Typhon Pact ship encountered is to be treated as a potential ‘friend’ at least not as an automatically presumed enemy.”  
“Except the Tzenkethi.” Jean-Luc qualified.  
“Yes, except the Tzenkethi.”  
“Who we know next to nothing about.” Groused Jean-Luc. “God, Jeremy, we barely know what their ships look like, let alone what kind of weaponry they possess.”  
“I know. As far as you space jockeys are concerned, you’re going to have to play it by ear, my friend.”  
“Hmph!” Jean-Luc grunted. “Well I suppose that’s better than nothing.”  
“It would be if not for one last detail.”  
Sighing, Jean-Luc suddenly felt very tired. “And that is?”  
“Marauders. We’ve had some reports, so far isolated, but growing that some of our ships have been harassed by marauders.”  
“Presumably Tzenkethi.”  
“Yep.”  
“Wonderful.”  
Both men sat in silence for a few long seconds before Jeremy said mildly,  
“I saw your request for leave. Might be a good time to take it, Jean-Luc. Keep your head down until things settle.”  
“I received permission this morning, Jeremy. Beverly, the children and I will be leaving in two and a half weeks.”  
“Not a moment too soon. Well, I’ve got work to do. Enjoy your leave, old friend, you’ve deserved it. Lerinn out.”

 

Jean-Luc sat back, his mind turning over the situation. That was until he blinked and, disoriented, tried to understand why he felt cold and uncomfortable. It was the smell that gave it away.  
With disgust and dismay, Jean-Luc looked down to see his trousers wet with urine. He gasped softly before grimacing. He looked at his little time piece only to see he’d been seated at his desk for over seven hours. The last thing he remembered was thinking about...what? With panic rising he struggled to bring to mind what he’d been doing.  
He woke his monitor and said shakily, “Computer, display last use of this monitor.”  
“Warning. The last use of that monitor was for a level 5 communiqué. Please input proper authentication current for level 5 encryption.”  
It was the mention of the height of the security that brought the much wanted information to Jean-Luc. He sat back and sighed, then grimaced again at the strong, acrid smell and the clammy discomfort. He rose stiffly and went to his private bathroom, taking a quick shower and replicating a clean uniform. One final look at his chronometer told him it was very late. No doubt he’d have some explaining to do. He had, some time ago, agreed with Beverly that he would contact her if he was going to work late.

 

His quarters were in darkness when he entered. Having first checked on his children, he went into the en suite off the master bedroom to change, not wishing to disturb either the sleeping Beverly or the baby, still in the nursery. For reasons he would never discover, once naked, instead of putting on a pair of sleep shorts and going to bed, he went to the basin, picked up his isorazor and that’s where he found himself next morning with Beverly gently prising the device from, his fingers. He was shivering and had urinated again.  
He turned his head slowly, looking at Beverly with obvious incomprehension. She somehow kept her alarm under control and said gently, “It’s okay, Jean-Luc. You’re okay.”  
David, standing just inside the bathroom, said with fear, “It’s happened again, hasn’t it.”  
Instead of answering, Beverly said, “Would you get my medkit and papa’s robe, please, David?”  
The lad was just re-entering the en suite when the red alert sirens sounded. It seemed to bring Jean-Luc back, as he blinked and said curtly, “Report to your station, Beverly! I’ll get to the bridge.”  
Before she could stop him, he was putting on the same uniform he’d taken off only hours before. He was out the door and gone in mere moments.  
Will rose from the centre seat and pointed with his bearded chin at a small image displayed on the activated forward viewscreen.  
“Can we identify it?” asked Jean-Luc curtly.  
“No, sir.”  
“I take it we’ve hailed the vessel?”  
“Yes, sir, all that did was make it increase speed and alter course to intercept.”  
“And there was no reply.”  
“No, Captain.”  
Taking his seat and gesturing for Will to do the same, Jean-Luc crossed his legs and gazed at the fast-approaching ship.  
“You’ve read the intel on the marauders?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Well, it’s a good bet that’s...”  
Will looked at his Captain to see the man was staring at nothing. Frowning and swearing softly under his breath, Will said quietly, “Captain?”  
Behind him, at tactical, the lieutenant said tersely, “The bogey’ll be within weapons range in twenty eight seconds, Commander. Shall I bring our weapons on line, sir?”  
“Just wait a minute!” barked Will. A little louder, loath to embarrass his Captain on his own bridge, Will said, “Captain!”  
The lieutenant’s voice easily carried her growing alarm. “Sir, their powering up their weapons and they’ve locked on to us!”  
With a last ditch effort, Will grabbed Jean-Luc’s upper arm and said loudly, “Captain Picard! Orders, sir?”  
He’d waited a fraction too long. As the tactical officer reported, “They’re firing!” Will shouted, “Shields to maximum!”  
Too late. The blast impacted on the secondary hull, shattering the duranium and ripping an ugly gaping hole.  
“Evasive manoeurvres! Target that damned ship and give it everything we’ve got. Fire at will!”  
The Enterprise took several more hits, making her shudder violently and yaw, but ultimately she out manoeuvred and outgunned her opponent. Dead in the water, the still unidentified craft sat venting drive plasma and listing badly. Will, wiping absently at a trickle of blood from a wound near his eyebrow, said grimly, “Open a channel. Hail them.”  
“Channel open, sir.”  
“Unidentified ship, you have engaged in an unprovoked attack on a Federation vessel. Prepare to be boarded. I intend to...”  
The blast of total annihilation made everyone on the bridge squint to protect their eyes. The ship rocked violently as the shockwave hit them. In the sudden quiet, the young officer at the con said incredulously, “They self-destructed.”  
“Confirmed, Commander.” Said the tactical officer. But Will had lost interest. He was kneeling beside the pone form of his captain, sprawled on the floor. Jean-Luc had been thrown from the command chair during the battle but had remained unresponsive. As Will called for medical assistance, tactical said quietly, “I have the casualty list, sir.”  
Will looked up, his usually genial face grim. “Let’s hear it.”  
“Thirty-eight injured, three dead. And Commander? One of the dead is Commander LaForge.”  
Will’s eyes closed in wrenching pain just as the turbolift doors opened. Beverly hurried down to the deck in front of the command chair, fearing the worst. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as her tricorder registered Jean-Luc’s uninjured state. He was beamed straight to sickbay.

 

It was several hours before Jean-Luc returned to his mind. At first disoriented, the calm, gentle pressure of a hand on his shoulder immediately calmed him. He knew that touch, he’d know it anywhere.  
“Beverly.” He whispered.  
“Yes, Jean-Luc, it’s me. Come on sit up.”  
He did so, still feeling slightly disconnected, but aware enough to see the pain and sorrow in Beverly’s eyes. It was time, he’d vacillated long enough. Too long as it turned out.  
“It’s Irumodic Syndrome, isn’t it.”  
Taking a steadying breath, Beverly replied quietly, “Yes.”  
“How far...how bad...?”  
How she kept from breaking down she never knew, but she answered his questions. “It’s well advanced, Jean-Luc. The progression in the degradation of the synaptic pathways has gone beyond anything I can do to slow it.”  
He took the news stoically, showing no outward sign of distress. In fact his next query was asked so clinically it was as if he was enquiring about someone else.  
“I take it peridaxon would be of no use?”  
“That’s taken as a palliative measure, Jean-Luc. It can’t slow or halt the degradation.”  
There was a brittle silence before Beverly asked, unable to keep the hurt and anger out of her voice, “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
At first he said nothing and Beverly feared he’d lapsed again, but when he looked at her she saw the light of intelligent recognition in his eyes.  
“Fear, Beverly. Simple stupid, cowardly fear. I remember only too well the future Q showed me, what I became under the influence of this damned condition. When the first episodes occurred I denied them, I pushed them away, choosing instead to believe that it was due to Q’s latest ‘adventure’ with me that was causing it to happen, But as it continued to occur I knew.” he sighed deeply. “I wanted to protect you and the children, Beverly. Protect you from what’s to come.”  
“Protect us?” Beverly snorted derisively, but then immediately softened her stance. “I’m as much to blame as you, Jean-Luc.”  
He opened his mouth to protest, to deny her statement, but she held up her hand and silenced him. “No, I know it’s true and so do you, if you’re brave enough to admit it. I’m not only your life partner, Jean-Luc, I’m your doctor. Deanna was suspicious, so was Will and I admit, so was I, but we all gave you the benefit of the doubt and in doing so we let you down, my love. Instead of following SOP when there was any doubt about a crewmember’s ability to do their job...regardless of the rank and position of that person, we just carried on, business as usual. Oh yes, the Captain’s had yet another traumatic experience with Q! He’ll get over it, he always does. That, Jean-Luc was a form of betrayal. We all assumed you’d pick up the pieces as usual and carry on. I’m so sorry, my love.”  
He took her hands and lifted then to his lips, kissing them tenderly. “If there’s been any betrayal, Beverly, it was by me. I should’ve come to you, at the very beginning; I should’ve let you know.”  
“Yes, you should, but you didn’t so now we have to deal with what we have now.”  
He smiled, trying to ease her pain. “But of course there isn’t anything to be done. Is there.”  
“There’s ongoing research, Jean-Luc. Medical science does not stand still.”  
He let that go, instead asking quietly, dreading the answers,  
“I remember being on the bridge with a ship approaching on an intercept course which we were beginning to assume was hostile. What happened?”  
Beverly’s smile was strained. “You’ve been through a lot, Jean-Luc. Why don’t you rest? We can talk about this later.”  
He stared uncompromisingly into her eyes. “Beverly, I have maybe five minutes...perhaps ten, if I’m lucky an hour and then I will probably ‘lapse’ again. I need to know what happened and I need to know while I’m still sane.”  
Swallowing, Beverly’s voice was monotone. “The ship turned out to be a marauder. They hit us before we could raise shields. There was a fire fight which we won. We’re at present on course for the nearest star base for repairs.”  
“Tzenkethi?”  
“We don’t know, although that’s the presumption, it was never established. Will had told them to be prepared to be boarded when they self-destructed. Obviously there were no survivors.”  
Jean-Luc took a deep breath and said quietly,  
“Damage? Casualties?”  
“Once we got our shields up we didn’t take too much more damage other than what had been sustained in that first unguarded shot. They’d targeted the secondary hull. We have a fairly large hole there, starboard side; force fields are maintaining hull integrity of course.”  
His dark eyes were intense. “Casualties?”  
“Thirty-eight injured; some badly, but there were three deaths.”  
His eyes closed as he lowered his head. “Who?”  
“All were in engineering. Two ensigns, and a lieutenant commander.”  
At that, Jean-Luc looked up, his face stricken. “No...” he whispered.  
Beverly nodded, the tears she’d been keeping at bay finally escaping. “Yes, my love. Geordi.”  
“Dear God...”  
He was still holding Beverly’s hands and she brought them to her chest. “Jean-Luc, under the circumstances...”  
When he spoke there was a remoteness in his voice that frightened the woman.  
“I’m relieved of duty.”  
“More than that, Jean-Luc. With the diagnosis of Irumodic Syndrome...”  
“I’ll resign.” He then looked into Beverly’s eyes and said quietly, “I want you to leave me.”  
Frowning, Beverly shook her head. “I’m not finished with my examination, Jean-Luc. I still have to...”  
“No.” He said softly, but brooking no misinterpretation. “I want you to leave me, Beverly. Take the children and start a new life.”  
Anger and terrible fear warred for dominance. “What the hell are you saying? Damn you, Jean-Luc! Do you expect us to just walk away, knowing what you’re facing? How could you even suggest something so grotesque, not to mention cruel?! How could I explain that to our children?”  
With remarkable calm, Jean-Luc said quietly, “It is precisely what I’m facing that I make the request, Beverly. I seek to spare you and the children the experience of bearing witness to my eventual insanity, where I won’t recognise you or our children followed by my inevitable unpleasant death. You know my wish is for a medially assisted termination, but I know how you feel about that, so I can’t hurt you by doing the one thing that would save all of us the pain and anguish. So what does that leave me, Beverly? How do I, how can I protect you all?”  
“We don’t need to be protected dammit! Jean-Luc I’m your life partner and David, Monique and Giselle are your children. Nothing changes that! The kids will understand because I’ll tell them. And no, they won’t remember the last bits, they’ll remember you well and strong, ‘cause I’ll make sure of it!”  
“No doubt my most recent ‘lapse’ was the cause of the initial damage and...the deaths?”  
“Yes, but...”  
He shook his head. “Then there’ll be a board of enquiry, Beverly, most certainly followed by a court martial. Disgrace as well as losing my mind? How do you think our children will cope with that? You will, but will they? I doubt it, Beverly. Their lasting memories of me will be of an addled, confused and physically deteriorating old man who will very soon not even recognise them!”  
“There’ll be no enquiry or court martial, Jean-Luc.” Beverly’s voice was soft and more tears flowed.  
“Why?” He whispered hoarsely.  
“Because Command already knows. Will had to submit a report and there was no way he could hide the fact that you were on the bridge, but...”  
“I was out of my mind.”  
“The thing is, once he had to admit you were uninjured and conscious, therefore should’ve been able to command, they immediately insisted I submit my medical evaluation. I’m so sorry, Jean-Luc, I had no option. This wasn’t something I could hide until you recovered. I had to tell them of the diagnosis. Your...’retirement’ is effective immediately.”  
They stayed in strained silence before Beverly said with some mild enthusiasm, “Let’s use this to our advantage, Jean-Luc. That leave we were going to take? Well, now we can please ourselves. No time limits, no restrictions. We can go wherever we want for as long as we want.”  
“I think you’re rather conveniently forgetting a few things, Beverly.”  
She flushed, knowing he’d caught her out. He stated the obvious. “First, you would have to resign. That’s unacceptable. Second, at some stage...and soon, I’m going to have to be in some kind of ‘care’ facility, you’re not going to find one of those on Risa or Pacifica, are you? And third, what about the children? Their schooling and sense of stability? No, my love. The idea of a break...a very short one has merit, but certainly not an extended one. A few days somewhere quiet, but only if you can satisfy me that you and the children can cope when I...”  
He gestured to his head and sighed. Beverly lifted his hand and kissed it, smiling, but her smile faded as she saw the light of intelligence and awareness vanish from his eyes. He’d ‘gone’ again.

 

The family left the ship two days later. At Jean-Luc’s request, during his lessening periods of lucidity, there was no event, no party, just a private ceremony of change-of-command leaving Will as the temporary Captain of the Enterprise, something everyone hoped would become permanent. Jean-Luc wanted to give his recommendation, but was unable to, being seen now as mentally unstable.  
Having been given the use of a shuttle, the family travelled to a planet with the intention of staying four days. Then they would leave; their final destination Earth. In particular, Labarre, France. There Beverly had made arrangements for Jean-Luc to be installed in a specially fitted out section of the house and medical staff employed to assist Beverly in nursing him through his final days. His sister-in-law Marie had died only eighteen months previous and the vineyard was entirely Jean-Luc’s now. One thing he had insisted on was Beverly (if possible) keeping the vineyard running. As Marie had aged, she’d taken on a very good vintner-manager and adequate staff and the label was flourishing. Beverly easily remembered how fervent Jean-Luc had been during his brief lucidity in eliciting her promise to do what she could to keep the vineyard going. He’d confessed he’d taken the necessary steps to leave everything to her and their children, but ultimately the choice would be hers. If she felt unsuited or simply not interested, then by all means she and the children could and should live elsewhere, but he’d pleaded with her to keep the vineyard. It was his personal legacy to his children. She hadn’t hesitated in agreeing. In fact plans were already in place to situate a private clinic within the house. Once her dear Jean-Luc was gone, Beverly had decided to continue to practice, but what she didn’t tell her partner was that as well as run-of-the-mill doctoring, she was going to devote a lot of time and effort in research into Irumodic Syndrome. Somewhere deep inside Beverly she wasn’t going to let go. She would fight the damned condition to the bitter end.

As it turned out she never got the chance. On the second day of the four-day holiday, Jean-Luc had expressed a wish to take a short walk. It’s been snowing quite heavily and Beverly was at first uncooperative, refusing point-blank to let him out of her sight. But his gentle persuasion finally got through. It was his last plea that broke her walls.  
“Beverly, my love, let me have some time to myself, while I still am myself. I won’t remember this soon.”  
Beverly took his hands and looked into his eyes. Clear hazel looked back, undaunted and unafraid. With tears in her eyes she nodded. “Okay. Half an hour, no more.”  
He kissed her cheek and ran his fingers with exquisite tenderness over her features. “I know soon I won’t remember you, my beautiful Beverly, nor our cherished children, but know this, mon coeur. I love you. I have loved you with such intensity...” he smiled ruefully. “...even the thought leaves me breathless. You have given me my heart’s desire, Beverly. No matter what the future brings, never forget how much I love you.”  
Having made his way to his intended destination and hoping with every gram of his failing strength he could stay lucid long enough to complete his task, Jean-Luc undressed down to his briefs. He took care to fold and stack his clothing; his boots left side-by-side like silent sentinels. He stood, already shivering violently. As a mantra, over and over through chattering teeth he said, his breath clouding around his head. “Stay lucid, stay lucid.” In the falling snow he didn’t see the flash of light, but the voice was annoyingly familiar.  
“You needn’t worry, Jean-Luc, I have you.”  
Blinking, his eyelashes crusted with a rim of snow, Jean-Luc said incredulously. “Q?”  
“Who else, mon capitaine?”  
Jean-Luc dragged his eyes away from the capricious being and stared at the gelid water of the fast flowing creek.  
“Not a bad decision, all things considered, Jean-Luc. It’ll be quick, painless and you’ll leave a relatively decent corpse. Very thoughtful, still, you always were altruistic.”  
Ignoring the entity, Jean-Luc slid the last metre or so, breaking the icy edge of the creek. He gasped involuntarily at the iciness of the water and hesitated momentarily before beginning to lie down. Q appeared by his side, squatting, his feet above the water. “Do you hate me, Jean-Luc?”  
“No.” It was becoming difficult to speak. “No, Q, I can’t find it in myself to hate you. In fact I find I should thank you.”  
“Even though the choice I gave you led you to this?”  
“You said nothing was for free, Q. I accept my death as payment in full. But may I ask one last thing of you?”  
Q gave Jean-Luc a speculative look and gave the answer before Jean-Luc could even ask the question. “I’ll watch over them, Jean-Luc, never fear. Your family...and your descendants...will...What is it the Vulcans say? Live long and prosper?”  
“My descendents?”  
For the first time Q smiled and it was with genuine warmth. “We of the Continuum pay our debts, Jean-Luc. You have fulfilled your part, now we will hold up our end of the bargain. Rest now, Jean-Luc, your work is done.”  
“Don’t let me...”  
“I won’t, Jean-Luc. You’ll be yourself until the end.”  
He let go of the bank and kept his eyes open, staring up into the falling snow. The greyness that overtook him was mercifully quick. He smiled. He was still himself at the end, his mind filled with images of Beverly and his children.

 

Beverly was preparing a late lunch when David came into the kitchen area and asked cautiously, “Where’s papa, maman?”  
Smiling at her son, Beverly said, “He went for a little walk. He’ll be back soon.”  
The boy frowned. “Maman...”  
By the way he’d said that one word, Beverly felt horrible fear. “What?” she said curtly. David stepped back into the living area and pointed at the large windows. “It’s snowing really hard, maman. Shouldn’t papa be back?”  
“Oh, God!” Blurted Beverly. To her son she said frantically, “David, go and get our coats, boots, gloves, hats and scarves.”  
Going further into the living room, Beverly bent over Monique who was playing with Giselle. “Monique, sweetie, maman and David have to go out for a little while. Will you be a big girl and watch over Giselle for me until we get back?”  
Beaming with pride, the little five year old nodded. “Yes, maman.”  
Beverly and David were still pulling on their protective clothing as they began to walk away from the cabin. “Where did he go? Do you know which direction, maman?”  
Beverly came to an abrupt halt, trying to force her panic down so she could think clearly.  
“The creek! The creek at the bottom of the gully!” In knee deep snow they pushed through, making heavy going on the steep downward slope. The creek was frozen along its edges but was full and flowing quickly. Turning downstream they found the terrain a little easier.  
It was Beverly who found his body. She’d seen the neat pile of his clothing, his red jacket and hat on top near the bank. He was floating, his body, clad in nothing but his briefs caught in a fallen tree. He’d been dead some time, but his expression, even in death was serene.  
Beverly and David pulled him from the icy water and sat one on each side, holding his blue hands. “Why, maman?” David asked quietly. “Why did he do it?”  
With surprising calmness Beverly replied, “He did it for us, David, you, your sisters and me. He didn’t want us to go through the pain and trauma of what was going to happen to him. So he did the only thing he thought he could do to spare us. It was his final act of love...for all of us.”  
David, tears sliding down his face said softly, “There’re no marks, maman. What...what killed him?”  
“Hypothermia, David. It would’ve been relatively quick and painless.”  
“So when he went for his walk he knew he was going to do it.”  
“Yes. I think if we look carefully enough, we’ll find something, last messages perhaps for each of us. In the cabin.”  
“I’ll go back, maman and call the emergency team. You stay with him.”  
Finally Beverly’s tears began to fall. All she could manage was a broken whisper. “Thank you, David.”  
Once alone with Jean-Luc’s lifeless body, she leaned down and kissed his cold blue lips. “I love you, Jean-Luc.”

 

Jean-Luc had indeed left messages for each of his loved ones. Beverly had found them in the bedside table. David’s and Monique’s and Giselle’s isolinear chips had been marked to be read by them at age 16. Beverly was free to read hers when she felt ready. She smiled sadly, a tear slipping free. “Even then you were thinking about my feelings, my love.”

 

The memorial service had been, at Beverly’s request, dignified and subdued. It was well attended but the press had been banned and only three vids were allowed, one edited for public consumption, the other two for Jean-Luc’s family and closest friends.  
Later, at the family plot within the grounds of the vineyard, a small gathering watched as Jean-Luc’s urn, containing his ashes was interred. Deanna Troi, who had been carefully monitoring the entire family, but especially Beverly, had noticed the woman was hiding something, something that was causing almost as much grief as her partner’s death.  
Manoeuvring close to her, Deanna watched quietly as the niche was sealed and the plaque affixed. Beverly was holding Giselle in one arm and Monique’s hand with her free hand, David, looking too small for the black suit he wore stood beside his sister, holding her other hand. Will, ever aware, caught the subtle look from his new fiancé and went to Beverly, saying quietly, “I’ll take the kids for a walk, Beverly. I think you need to talk to Deanna.”  
Sighing at the inevitability of it all, but lacking the emotional strength to resist, Beverly nodded and handed her children over to their uncle Will.  
Now alone, as the few close friends drifted away, Deanna said gently, “You knew.”  
Beverly looked up at the sky, squinting in the bright late Spring sunshine.  
“You’re talking about me allowing him to go for his...‘walk’?”  
When Deanna said nothing, Beverly sighed deeply. “Yes, I knew. Jean-Luc had always been an advocate of euthanasia but he was aware of my feelings on the matter so he knew that avenue was closed to him.” She lowered her head and gave Deanna a look of such sadness the accompanying wave of emotional pain actually made Deanna stagger. It was Beverly who steadied her.  
“In a way, I killed him, Dee. Instead of being with his family, surrounded by love he took his own life alone and in a freezing cold creek on an alien world light years from the planet of his birth.”  
The two women were silent for a time before Deanna asked gently, “Did he tell you?”  
Beverly snorted. “More than he told you, Dee. He told me the whole hideous thing. I know you’re aware of most of what occurred up until Q made his appearance...but you have no idea, Deanna, no idea what followed.”  
To the counsellor’s raised eyebrow, Beverly shook her head. “No, Dee, I can’t...actually, I won’t tell you or anyone else. The kids will find out when they reach 16. Until then, all I will tell you is that Jean-Luc was given a choice, but the reality was there was only ever one choice he could make. Trouble was...it came at a terrible price.”  
“His life.” Deanna whispered.  
“Yeah.”  
The up swell of staggering grief caught Deanna again and she knew there was more to it than Jean-Luc’s death. Taking Beverly’s hand, the counsellor said, “Tell me. It’s destroying you, Beverly. Tell me!”  
Beverly looked deeply into Deanna’s eyes before slowly kneeling and placing her hand on the new, still-shiny plaque on the niche. “I’m pregnant.”  
Lowering her head, two tears slipped from Deanna’s eyes.  
“I was going to tell him on our holiday...when he was...you know...lucid...but...”  
Beverly sighed and shook her head, anger and recrimination in her voice. “Why is it that we never say the important things when we have the chance? Why do we wait until it’s too fucking late?!”  
Deanna knelt beside Beverly and pulled her into her embrace.  
“How far along are you?”  
“Seven weeks. It wasn’t planned, not exactly; we’d just decided to let nature take its course.”  
There was a long silence, broken when Deanna said very quietly, “You know the gender.”  
“Yes.” Sighed Beverly. “We never did with the others, but under the circumstances...it’s a boy.”  
“He would’ve been pleased, Beverly, pleased and proud.”  
Her next question was couched very carefully. “You’ve had the children tested?”  
“David and Monique, yes...and they’re okay, there’re no defects. Giselle is still too young, but preliminary scans are looking good so far and as for junior here...” she placed her hand over her lower belly. “Fingers crossed.”  
Deanna got to her feet and helped Beverly up. “So what now?”  
“Well,” smiled Beverly wanly. “With Will getting the Titan and you and he marrying and you transferring to his ship, I guess there’s not much left of the Enterprise family. Data’s gone...Geordi...” She sighed. “I think, for a few years at least, I’ll just settle down here at the vineyard, raise our children and be a GP.”  
“You’re really resigning from Starfleet altogether?”  
“Yes, Dee.” She looked again at the plaque.”Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being maudlin, but this is where Jean-Luc is. That’s reason enough to want to stay.”  
“Fair enough. You know Will and I ship out tomorrow.”  
“Yes. You can stay here tonight if you’d like.”  
Deanna’s smile was warm. “No. Thanks, but Will has so much brass to negotiate in assuming his captaincy and I have to get up to speed on the Titan’s crew. Command is we’re we’ll be tonight.”  
“Kay. Keep in touch, Dee. Don’t be a stranger.”  
“I could say the same to you, Beverly. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know what you’ve got in mind.”  
Beverly shrugged. “Can you blame me?”  
“No, just don’t let it consume you.”  
Beverly smiled and took Deanna’s face in her hands, kissing both her cheeks. “Bye, dear, dear friend.”  
“Adieu I think is more appropriate, Beverly.”  
Will was walking back, Beverly’s heart swelling with gratitude as she heard David, Giselle and Monique laughing. The new Captain hugged his old friend and kissed her brow. “Updates, Beverly. I want regular updates!”  
“Oh...go on with you Captain Riker.”  
Will tapped his comm. badge and requested a beam out. Now alone with her children, Beverly kissed her fingers and placed them on Jean-Luc’s plaque. “Come on, let’s go up to the house, we’ve got a lot of unpacking to do.”  
As they walked up the gently sloping lawned area, David, carrying Giselle, said quietly, “And you have your lab to set up.”  
“Yes I do.” Agreed Beverly.  
“Do you think you’ll find a cure, maman?”  
“I don’t know, David, but if I don’t, it won’t be through lack of trying. From this time forward, Irumodic Syndrome has become my personal nemesis.”  
“Mine too, maman.” Said David with conviction.  
“And mine.” Piped up Monique.  
In the dappled sunshine Jean-Luc’s plaque shone a little brighter. The inscription was a simple one, the accompanying poem appropriate.  
Jean-Luc Picard. 13th July, 2305-31st March 2376. Aged 71 years.  
A life well lived.  
Do not stand at my grave and weep  
I am not here. I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow  
I am the diamond glints on snow.  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
I am the gentle autumn rain.  
When you awaken in the morning’s hush  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry.  
I am not there. I did not die. *

*Mary Elizabeth Frye.

End.


End file.
